


Sins of the Father

by LadyoftheShield



Series: TMNT 2012 Fix-it [3]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Families of Choice, Gaslighting, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Mutation, No Romance, No Sex, No Smut, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Swearing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2018-12-30 17:25:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12113610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheShield/pseuds/LadyoftheShield
Summary: AU. In the aftermath of the season two finale, Casey is left behind in Kraang-infested New York with an unstable Karai and an injured Splinter. As they prepare to take back the city, Casey is forced to face some uncomfortable truths about himself and his place in Splinter's family.Updates infrequently, but is not dead.





	1. Chapter 1

Screams and laser chirps filled the wintry air as Casey navigated the crowded streets. Mindful of Leo in the back, Casey tried to keep his driving smooth despite Mr. O’Neil’s clumsy van. As he drove, he watched the streets for tell-tale red and blue police lights. Now would be the worst time to get arrested for driving without a license.

But the police were too busy running the evacuation or trying to hold off Kraang forces to bother with one lousy driver. When Casey entered the poorer neighborhoods, they vanished entirely. Few people in Casey's neighborhood owned a car. With the road ahead uncluttered by vehicles, or watching officers, he floored the gas pedal. One good thing about Mr. O’Neil’s van: it plowed through snowdrifts.

As he pulled into his father’s usual parking spot behind Jones’ Grocery and Liquor, Casey's hands tightened on the wheel. A remnant from his dad’s career in the NHL, Dad’s white convertible was one of the few assets that had not been sold to pay for his step-mother’s medical bills. There was a chance his father and sister were still in the apartment. In an emergency his father preferred to stay put rather than evacuate, and he didn’t think any of them would take him seriously about mutants living in the sewers. But then, the aliens rampaging in the city might make them more open to the thought.

Climbing over the back seat, he checked on Leo. He hadn't so much as twitched. The wispy cloud expelled from Leo’s mouth was the only sign of life. Casey pulled a blanket streaked with grease over his friend’s prone form, hoping to fend off the cold December air. Cranking the heater up all the way as he left, Casey approached the front of his father’s store.

The store’s front doors were still locked, but the glass had been smashed out with a brick. Grumbling at the thought of how much it would cost to replace the panes, Casey brushed the shards out of the frame with his gloved hand and slipped through.

"Robyn? Dad?" he called as broken glass and muddy snow crunched under his sneakers. The shelves were patchworked with bare spots, the goods either stolen or flung to the floor in haste. Casey fought back the indignation building in his chest as he stepped across a widening pool of spaghetti sauce. Paying the bills took a backseat to getting out of the city with his family. Rushing down the constricted aisles to the back of the store, he climbed the stairs two at a time. Unlocking the door, he darted into his apartment, calling for his sister.

No reply. A dusty light bulb flickered overhead. Cracked cupboard doors hung half-open, exposing barren pantry shelves. A slitted trash bag stood in for the missing pane of glass in their kitchen window, but could not stop the rain and snow from slipping in and infecting the mortar with mold. Their toaster lay on the floor, its innards spilling out. Casey huffed as he went to the landline dangling from the wall. He had rewired that toaster just last week.

Putting the cracked landline to his ear, he dialed his father’s cell. He still hadn't managed to scrounge up enough cash to replace his phone after the Slash incident a few weeks ago.

After a half-minute of fidgeting, his father picked up. “Casey, the hell are you still doing at the house?”  
“Looking for you and Robyn. Is she with you?”

“Yeah, she’s here. We’re heading to Macy's Laundromat to hold out with some buddies of mine. You know where that is?"

A bad taste spiked in his throat. Macy’s Laundromat. He’d heard that name before, though he couldn't remember where.

"Dad, it's not safe anywhere in the city," Casey said, "If we leave now-"

"-the streets out of the city are jammed. No way you’d make it out. If you don't want to come, that's your call.”

“Dad-”

“You're old enough to make these choices for yourself. I can take care of your sister just fine without you. I'll keep her safe. You take care of yourself. Be careful.”

Before Casey could protest, his father hung up.

Casey slammed the phone back into the hook and kicked another hole in the drywall. He had no idea where Macy’s Laundromat even was, and he couldn’t waste time driving around trying to find it. Leo’s wounds were severe and they needed to get out of the city now. His friends needed him now. His family would be fine without him- better, even. His sister didn't need him antagonizing his dad and taking up resources.

Which was what they needed right now. A long drive to an abandoned farmhouse lay ahead. There was little of use in the van, and the farmhouse would not have enough food to last six teenagers a few weeks.

Running to his room, he emptied his backpack onto the floor and opened the hidden drawer in his desk. His basic equipment- pucks, explosives, matches, duct tape, a knife and a first aid kit- filled his backpack about halfway. Set on weaponry, Casey went back downstairs. The canned goods and junk food in the store below had been cleaned out, but it was a safe bet no one had gotten into the padlocked basement, where the stock was kept. Of course, he also had supplies packed and ready in his hideout in an abandoned warehouse a couple miles away- but that would take too much time. He was already here, the goal was escape, not hunkering down.

  
Whoever owned the warehouse hadn't been by in years, and hadn't done squat when a couple of college kids claimed it for their wanna-be crack ring. Although a good five years younger, Casey had driven them off and claimed the warehouse as his own. Originally, he’d used it to avoid pissing his father off with the noise when he tinkered with his explosives and gadgets.

But then the Purple Dragons spread to his neighborhood, and the police accepted their blood money to look the other way. The few who refused it spent more time harassing kids with dark skin than doing anything about the protection rackets and unsolved murders. Standing up to the Purple Dragons rarely ended well for those who tried. Retaliation always fell on their family. But the warehouse was out of Dragon territory. If anything went wrong, his family could lay low there.

And so, for about a year and a half, he’d been stocking his crash pad supplies scavenged from the trash or lifted from businesses patronized by Purple Dragons. He had known then he wasn’t yet ready to take on the Dragons. It was a little insurance in case things got bad on the streets and he couldn't risk going home, or on certain nights when he knew his old man would be in a bad mood. But then the mutants hit the streets, and Snakeweed snatched his sister. Ready or not, he couldn’t sit back any longer.

The warehouse became even more crucial when the turtles entered his life. If one of them got hurt, they couldn't go to a hospital, and as often as he and Raph went out to clean the streets, having a place to stop and recuperate without going all the way to the lair had already been a godsend.

Then there was the less dramatic, unlikely but worst-case scenario where his dad keeled over. No judge would give him custody of Robyn although he was eighteen. He had a record, even if charges hadn’t been pressed. The pad would give them some breathing room while he figured out what to do.

The ground shook and he froze, his hand on the lock leading to the basement. Kraang Prime’s laughter echoed down the street. Focus, Casey, he told himself as he opened the lock and dropped down.

Six cans of soup, six bottles of water and a canister of ibuprofen went into his backpack. After some hesitation, he threw in a few emergency foil blankets. If the farmhouse didn’t have electricity, the cold-blooded turtles would need a way to keep warm.

Aware time was trickling away faster than he could act, Casey went back up the stairs to the phone hanging on the wall in the employee break room and dialed April. Barely three seconds passed before her strained voice crackled on the line. “Casey?”

“Red, where are you?”

“We’re a few blocks south of Murakami’s,” she said, “by Second Time Around. Hurry, Casey!”

“I know, I’m coming-”

Something slammed into his back and knocked him off his feet. He crashed against the wall of the break room. Swearing, Casey rolled out of the room and got to his feet as a shelf hurtled through the air towards him. Casey ducked to the side, and scanned for the intruder as the metal crashed into the doorway to the break room. Light footsteps pattered around the aisles as the intruder avoided his searching gaze.

"Come on, I don't have time for this!” Casey yelled, brandishing his hockey stick.

Leo stepped out from behind the closest aisle. No. Not Leo. The tails of his black bandana fluttered as he walked, a heavy iron mace swinging in his hand. Memory flashed in Casey’s brain- Slash kidnapping Raphael- the mutagen canister shattering on Slash- a dark duplicate of Leo facing off against the eldest turtle-

“Slash,” he ground out as he pulled his mask down over his face.

Any other time, Casey would have beaten the mutagen out of Slash for what he did to Raph. But he suppressed the urge to fight. Leo lay unconscious in the back of Mr. O’Neil’s van and Casey had promised his best friend he’d protect his brother. This fight would have to wait.

“I’m feeling generous today,” Casey said, leaning on the stick, but ready to move at a hair’s twitch from Slash, “so how’s about you go your way and I go mine?”

Slash moved. Casey only had time to bring his stick up before Slash slammed him against the wall. Casey’s hockey stick went flying. He struggled against the strong hand clamping around his throat, to no avail.

“What does Raphael see in you anyway?” Slash hissed, tightening his grip slowly. “You're not-”

Casey tazed him. Slash roared his hands jerking free of Casey’s neck. Casey fell and rolled to the side. Slash’s foot lashed out and caught him in the stomach, smacking him into the sales counter. Casey gasped for air and lurched to his feet as Slash loomed over him.  
“Now it's your turn to be rejected," Slash hissed, ripping a set of metal shelves off the floor. Cornered, Casey dropped to the ground, wrapping his arms around his head as the metal shelves slammed into him.

**

The low purr of Mr. O’Neil’s car pierced the blackness. Casey slowly rose back to himself. Cold metal pinned him against the counter, restraining his movements. Slash hadn’t meant to kill him. All he would have had to do was snap Casey's neck. The sound from Mr. O’Neil’s car faded into the distance, and the implications shook Casey free of the fogginess in his head.  
Slash was driving off with Leo helpless in the back.

Spitting a curse, Casey shoved at his prison. The interlocked shelves rattled, and stayed hooked together. Casey slid along the floor, crawling toward the small gap between the floor and the tilted shelves.

Once he pulled himself free, he scooped up his fallen hockey stick and ran outside.

There was no sign of the van or which direction it had taken. Cursing himself for leaving the keys, Casey ran to the alley. He had to find the others so Donnie could track Leo’s phone. Unlocking his bike from where it rested shackled to a rusty pipe, Casey hopped on and sped down the street.

Casey didn’t know how much time passed before he saw the sign for the antique shop in the distance. Broken glass littered the ground around the store. The wind whistled through buildings with exposed interiors, doubtless the work of Kraang Prime. A fender painted with hippie flowers lay twisted on the sidewalk. He dismounted the bike before it came to a complete stop and let it fall. “Raph! April!” he shouted as he ran to the middle of the street.

Before he could get his bearings, try to figure out which way they’d gone, the sound of tramping footsteps got his attention. Casey leapt to the side as laser bolts filled the air around him. Down the street on either side, a phalanx of Kraang soldiers marched towards him.

His blood thrummed in his veins. His hands itched to curl around a weapon. But Casey knew this was a fight he couldn’t win. He couldn’t protect anyone if he was dead. Breaking into a run, he tore down the street.

Something slid underfoot, throwing him off balance. He went down, catching himself on his left hand. Before he could recover, the Kraang were upon him.

He struggled, but the more he thrashed and cursed, the more he felt the cans of soup in his backpack press down on his spine. A faint wooden crack sounded from one of the sticks strapped to his back.

“Hey, I just bought that!” he shouted, using his voice to crunch down the fear eating at his nerves. In response, an alien hand grabbed the back of his head and slammed his face into the asphalt. Casey grunted. He was used to pavement facials from cops, but with them you could kick them in a sensitive place and get moving. The same tactic would not work with the Kraang.

Then a vicious ki-ai echoed down the street. The music of laser bolts echoed around him as the weight on his back lifted. Casey scrambled to his feet as he grabbed one of his sticks out of the holster and brought it around in a vicious arc. Something moved behind him, and Casey turned, almost clocking the newcomer in the face.

It was Karai, her green eyes alert and aware despite her animalistic body. Suppressing the lurch of disappointment in his stomach, Casey fought his way to her side. He didn’t trust her- couldn’t trust her after she had been the enemy for so long. But right now, they had a common enemy. And mutual need was a bond nearly as strong as love. She of all people would know.

Her head jerked towards the alley packed with the fewest Kraang. Casey ran ahead, swinging his hockey stick at the delicate joints of the Kraang soldiers. She surged ahead of him, and Casey suppressed an uneasy shudder. Even in her snake form, Karai moved with graceful, controlled motions. Karai thrashed her tail, and the last of the Kraang blocking their path fell.

Together, pursued by the tramp of Kraang ground troops, they ran.


	2. Chapter 2

Casey kept hold of his stick as he bobbed and wove around debris. His breath burned in his lungs. They couldn't run forever, but there was no way they were going to defeat that many Kraang. Karai jumped up, and before he could ask her what she was doing, something thick and white curled around his waist. Casey yelped in surprise and struck at it before he realized it was Karai’s tail. Before the thought finished forming in his head, she climbed the side of a building and hung upside down from a fire escape. Casey restrained every urge in his body telling him to fight back and kick his way free, and watched the Kraang run under them.

Reaching up, Casey grabbed the metal railing and pulled himself onto the escape. Karai slid next to him. Casey kept a tight grip on his stick until the last of the foot soldiers had fanned out.

“You can let go of me now,” he said once the coast was clear, shoving at Karai’s tail. Her coils unfurled from around him. “Thanks,” he said as he slid his hockey stick back into its holster. Looking at Karai, Casey crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, trying to hide the fear he was half convinced she could smell, “So what brings you to grace me with your presence?”

Her glowing green eyes drifted shut as her body twisted like silly putty. Her tail shortened and split into two, the two snake mouths on the end of her arms flattened out into working, human hands and black hair grew onto a head squashing back into a human shape.

“That’s a new trick,” he said as the now human Karai got to her feet. Human-looking, he amended as she shot him a disdainful look with eyes as sickly green as steamed broccoli. Jagged fangs sharper than broken glass jutted from her mouth.

“Some of us handle our mutation better than others,” she said. The forked tongue flickering out of her mouth ruined her imperious tone.

“Y’know, that would be pretty metal if it weren’t so creepy,” Casey said, eying the autonomous tongue.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed, “Now try to keep up.”

“Hey, who said I was going anywhere with you?” he asked.

“Don’t be stupid, Jones,” Karai said, the ‘s’ sound oozing from her lips like the hiss of a collapsed lung. “You have no allies, and your chances of surviving alone?" she broke off with a disdainful laugh.

“Did you see what happened to them?”

“The end of it, yes,” Karai said, “O’Neil’s car is… hard to miss. They made it out before the barrier went up."

“What about Slash?” Casey asked.

“Who?” she asked.

“Another mutated turtle. Evil. Wears a black band.”

She considered. “I saw a figure running over the rooftops away from the van,” she said at last, “I thought one of them was running distraction, but it didn’t move like them."

“So you’re sure it wasn’t one of them?”

“Definitely not,” she said.

Casey almost slumped with relief, but caught himself at the last minute to keep from giving her the satisfaction of seeing his concern. “Leo was out cold in the back. Slash probably didn’t even realize he was there," he told himself.

Karai checked her nails. “Are you done yet?” she asked.

“Look, I don’t see why we need to keep this party going,” he said. “You don’t need me, so’s how about we stay out of each other’s way?” If he got a motorbike to dodge the debris, he thought, there was a chance he could catch up to them, maybe run interference for any pursuers with his explosive pucks-

“Unfortunately,” Karai ground out, crossing her arms, “I do need you.”

“What, as cannon fodder?"

“Splinter’s alive,” she said, “But he’s wounded. I can't-" she paused. "I can't do it alone. I need someone I can trust to watch his back.” 

Things really were bad if Karai was desperate enough to ask for help.

“Since when do you trust me?” he asked.

“I don't,” she returned, “but I know you won't harm my father.”

Casey and Karai eyed each other. He still didn’t trust her. But Karai didn’t need to lead him somewhere to kick his ass, and right now, they had one enemy in common. April and the Turtles had gotten away together, and they could take care of each other. Leo would be ok as long as he was with Donnie. Splinter, however, only had an unstable, half-snake ninja girl with daddy issues to look out for him. And Casey couldn’t just leave his best friend’s dad.

“Fine,” he said, “For Splinter."

He followed her into the shadows and moved along the streets as they went, hugging the shadows and dancing around the scattered debris. Past flipped cars and burnt out buildings they went, until she darted into the open to slip down a manhole. Following, he pulled the manhole closed after him. Goosebumps spread down his arms in the wet sewer air and Casey pulled up his hood.

Clambering down the ladder, he switched on a waterproofed penlight he’d added to his vigilante gear after the incident with Slash in the sewers.

“No light,” Karai murmured, “there are patrols here.”

Only the urgency in her voice and the distant whine of Kraang technology echoing through the sewer tunnels prompted his obedience. The cold water sucked the warmth from his feet like a vacuum. Onward into the starless dark they walked, him moving just behind her, or as close as he could. Even with the several inches of water covering the floor of the sewers, Karai made no sound when she moved, slithering like the rage thrumming under Casey’s skin in a fight. The faint hiss of her breath in the dark alone affirmed her presence. Besides the occasional drip of water or the small splash of water as his feet moved up and down, all was silent.

Casey had little trouble navigating the tunnels in the dark. Especially as a child, Casey had spent a lot of time within the sewers. The dead end chambers and sprawling tunnels were littered with his initials graffitied on the wall and glass from his therapeutic bottle-breaking sessions. He had stopped going down so much when his sister was born because of her delicate constitution, but he still remembered how to move about underground. 

Air rushed through his mask as the tunnel opened up around them, breaking from his thoughts. The faint glow of emergency lights embedded into the walls seared his eyes, and he lifted his left hand to shield his eyes. Grey concrete ledges lifted out of the water, and crumbling white tiles clung to the walls like broken teeth. In the center of the platform, a still figure lay prone on the concrete.

“Splinter?” Casey asked, recognizing Splinter’s dark markings in the pale light. A rusty stain pooled under the ninja master’s body. His damp robe had been pulled off his shoulders, revealing loosely tied bandages soaked with blood on his torso. “When did you change these?” he asked.

“I put them on a couple hours ago,” Karai said, a defensive snap coloring her voice. “I had to lead some Kraang away from him.”

“He’s still bleeding,” Casey said, unslinging his backpack and dumping its contents on the floor. Stripping off his gloves, Casey peeled back the ninja master’s robe. “I don’t have much in here,” he said as he assessed Splinter’s injuries, “Can you scavenge more medical stuff?” Considering the way things fell out, it might have been better to run by his crash pad and pick up some more supplies. He didn't have much with him and Splinter's wounds would take a decent amount of material to staunch and bind.

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific,” Karai said.

“Four by four pads, paracord, gauze- stuff like that,” he said, peeling back the bloodiest bandage as light footsteps pattered back the way they had come. Splinter’s skin was clammy under his bare fingers, and the blood around the wound had congealed. In the dim light, it was hard to see, so after raising his mask, Casey clamped his penlight in his teeth.

Over the course of his short but eventful life, Casey had treated a wide variety of injuries, mostly his own. He’d figured out how to handle everything from the post of an iron fence slicing the back of his hand to a puncture wound from a nail he hadn’t seen in the dark to the burns from a scalding pot of coffee shattered on his shoulder when it took too long to make and scrapes from climbing buildings to leave his mark in paint. Even as a kid, he’d known they could not afford to pay a doctor, or to answer the questions his scars would trigger. Thanks to the wonders of the internet, he’d learned to fix himself as good as any doctor without paying for it with hard cash and his father's rage. He’d never had to treat anything but bruises on others, but Karai didn't need to know.

Clearing away Splinter’s thick mottled fur to see what he was doing and keep the wound clean was the first step. Splinter’s fur was surprisingly silky, he thought as he shaved away another clump of the mottled brown-black fur. But then, Splinter wasn’t a normal rat by anyone’s definition. With the fur cut away, he could get a better look at Splinter's injuries. Splinter’s left shoulder blade had a long, deep cut across it with severe bruising in the tissue around it. His right shoulder had a similar impact injury that had somehow managed not to fracture his collarbone, and Splinter’s abdomen had been badly bruised and cut by what he suspected was an armored elbow or knee. There didn’t seem to be any internal bleeding. 

Despite what he'd thought, he had just enough supplies to stop the bleeding and wash the blood and debris from Splinter’s wounds, although he had to use more bottled water to clean Splinter’s wounds than he would have liked. Without access to running water, clean drinking water was now a precious commodity. Out of the six bottles he had grabbed, only two remained. To save it, he wiped his bloody hands on his jeans. Just as he made a note to collect some hydrogen peroxide on his next run, something thrummed in the dark.

Casey stepped to the edge of the concrete platform, listening. A low, mechanical thrumming filled the air. Faint purple light spilled around a distant corner, growing brighter by the second. Spitting a curse, Casey pulled back, and glanced at Splinter. He couldn’t be moved.

As he reached for a hockey stick, it brushed the wall with a thundering clack. The seeker turned, and Casey remembered how much the sewers amplified sound. If he fought this one, he'd lead scores of them here- to Splinter. If he had one of the turtles, or if Splinter weren't down, it’d be different.

Grabbing a couple of pebbles from the bare concrete floor, Casey slipped into the tunnel and moved as silently as he could in the half foot of water collected on the floor until he reached the intersection. A silver sphere floated down the tunnel, scanning every inch of the tunnel as it went. Casey cast a couple pebbles around the corner and quickly withdrew. Casey released a quiet breath when the Kraangbot passed the intersection. The Kraangbot searched in vain, regained its bearings, and continued down the tunnel. Away from them.

Casey sloshed back to the concrete platform, relieved at the narrow escape, but fully aware he'd been lucky. This spot was too exposed- too many entrances and exits to monitor, but not too many for the Kraang to block with their soldiers and trap them like- well, Casey thought, flicking his eyes over to Splinter.

He moved back over and checked Splinter’s bandages. His wheezing had not improved, but Casey didn't think it had gotten worse either. Casey placed the back of his hand against the top of Splinter’s snout. His breath was hot, and sweat had damped his fur down. Great, Casey thought, pulling his hand away. Just great. The last thing they needed right now was for Splinter to get sick. Of course, in this environment with open wounds, it wasn’t surprising.

A duffel bag thudded onto the ground by Casey.

“Hey!” Casey said, starting. Karai stood on the edge of the platform, and he was surprised again by her vibrant green eyes.

Her teeth bared in a smile. “Gotta watch your back, Jones,” she said before she sobered. "How is he?"

The tired glare he had prepared for her faded. Casey dug through the bag she had brought as he answered. "No broken bones or internal bleeding, but I don’t know why he's out like this. His injuries aren't light, but they're not awful. Maybe it's cause he's sick?"

"Maybe," Karai echoed. Casey turned back to the supplies scattered around him. They were set on medicine now, he thought, but they were still low on food and water. His turn to go bust heads and scavenge.

“I’m gonna get more supplies,” Casey said, standing, “with three of us, the food I brought won’t last."

"-I'll go," Karai said, scooping up his backpack before he could grab it.

"You just went," Casey said, "It's my turn."

"Someone needs to stay with him," Karai said, "and you’d only get yourself mutated if you went up. The only thing you can do now is keeping my father safe while he recovers."

"-Yeah, about that," Casey said, standing up, "we need to move him."

"We can't move him," Karai said, locking her eyes onto his. Casey met her gaze, and felt his feet dig into the ground.

"Your snake form is strong enough," Casey shot back. Almost before he had finished, Karai hissed. She stepped forward, the force of a hurricane behind her stride.

"I could hurt him," she said, her voice solid as the concrete under his feet, "I can't support his spine without my hands."

“We sure as hell can’t keep him here,” Casey said, gesturing at Splinter as he stepped toward her, "It's not safe.”

Karai chuckled. "There’s nowhere safe," she said, turning away as she slung his backpack over one shoulder.

Casey grabbed one of the straps. "We almost got found by Kraang and he’s getting sick,” he snapped, “We need to move him."

"It’s all we have,” she said, “Just treat him.”

"Treat him?” he echoed, "I can't ‘treat him’- I'm not a freaking doctor and he's a giant mutant rat!"

With an angry roar, her left hand lashed out and slammed into his diaphragm. Casey went down, phantom pain from his fight with Slash throbbed across his ribs. His rage kindled, and Casey got up on one arm before he realized he couldn't breathe.

He could feel his chest muscles moving, straining, but no air filled his lungs. He tried to speak, to ask her what she did, but nothing came out. Nothing came in. Karai knelt next to him and grabbed his shoulders.

“You seem to think you have a choice here,” she said, her split tongue slithering around Casey’s temple, “You don’t.”

She shoved him, and he sprawled onto his back. Karai vanished into the shadows as air filled his lungs. Casey coughed, feeling like someone had just taken a hammer to his ribs. He took as deep a breath as he could, and hugged his knees, composing himself.

His shaky breathing stabilized, then broke down again. He tried to slow his breathing down, and fight the rising panic, but he had no idea what she’d done. Had she hit a pressure point or something? For several long minutes he sat there, sputtering as he tried to regain his breath. It didn’t quite come back, but the pain in his chest dulled to a manageable level. Casey got to his feet. He’d always known Karai was dangerous. She needed him for now, and she’d nearly taken him out of commission anyway.

Casey’s hand curled into a first. Every moment he spent here, the thought of taking off and searching for his family became more appealing.

But no, he couldn’t leave Raph’s dad alone with his unstable daughter.

With a frustrated growl, Casey kicked the floor. The chill of the sewers clung to his body, numbing his skin and stirring the need to act thrumming in his veins. Stupid Karai, acting like his boss. Stupid Karai, acting as if he needed to prove himself to her. But as much as he hated the idea of just sitting here, he had to admit she was right. Splinter was utterly defenseless.

In need of something useful to do, Casey reorganized the medical supplies Karai had brought back. She had grabbed some other things he hadn’t asked for, but most of it was a good addition to their small stockpile.

She still wasn’t back.

Casey repaired the crack in his hockey stick, reinforcing it with strips of thin metal he found in the debris scattered around the chamber. Especially now, he couldn’t afford to throw away anything useful.

She still wasn’t back.

He played hockey with himself, slapping a puck against the wall again and again and again, wishing he could smash it into a Kraang’s face. Again and again and again until it went spinning too close to Splinter’s prone body. Then he explored the rest of the chamber. Soda cans and fast food bags filled the gaps in pieces of blown tire and tree branches half-buried in dirt. With nothing else to do, he began collecting debris scattered around to build a fire.

Hours, minutes since Karai had left- he could not tell. The only sounds to accompany Splinter’s shallow breathing were the crackling of the flames and the occasional plop of water in the distance. Still wearing his mask and gear, Casey sat by the fire, his knees drawn up to his chest. Splinter slept on as if he would only awaken with the dead, and Casey stared out into the darkness. herehere

**

Without a backward glance, Karai stepped into the darkness and broke into a light jog, leaving the sounds of Casey choking for breath behind her. Heavy anger roiled behind her teeth, and she sucked in deep breaths and focused on the rhythm of her running feet. It was not enough. Her human form melted away. Putting on a burst of speed to escape the tantalizing scent of rat blood in the air, Karai slithered into the deep of the sewers.

Why, out of all the people Splinter surrounded himself with, was Jones the only one left in the city. Raphael’s attitude was tolerable, because he had the skill to back up his brashness. Jones did not. He only hung around the turtles for the adrenaline high and the cute redhead. Even Michelangelo could sober up when the stakes got high. Jones could follow orders, but daring to think he knew best for her father-

The thought pulled her up short, as it always did. Even now, days after she had learned the truth, Karai was still getting used to the idea.

Hamato Yoshi, not Oroku Saki, was her father.

Karai stopped. The dankness and decay of the sewers pressed around her. The weight of Shredder’s words clamped on her spine, whispering about the importance of family. She shrugged them off, a hiss tearing from her throat. He had never meant those things. He had only said them to control her, to turn her against her father for his sick revenge.

Rank sewer water lapped against her sides. Karai remembered the sensation of falling into warm, cloying mutagen, was falling as her body trembled with joy at the thought of cracking Yoshi's bones between her teeth-

No, she told herself, darting forward to break the sensation of the still water against her sides. She was not going to hurt her father.

Even after everything with Fa- with Shredder- even after she turned her blade against him, Splinter had still called her his daughter. He had still wanted her.

But she couldn’t say whether Splinter would still want her after this, she thought as she slithered onward in the darkness It would be wise not to. She had not spoken to him since she had disobeyed him and tried to kill the Shredder by herself. She knew how Shredder would have reacted to such defiance, but Hamato Yoshi- her father- was still such a mystery to her.

Even if he chose to forgive her, Yoshi's love for her didn't erase all the times she had battled his sons. She couldn't pretend there was still a place for her in his family. Furthermore, there was the issue of her mutation. Even in her human form, when she got too close to him she had to crush the thoughts of tearing her teeth into his soft, tasty muscles. Every moment, she had to force her snake side down to stay in control of herself.

And Jones, pig-headed and reckless as he was, made it so much harder to rein in her animal self. He had a way of burrowing through her defenses like a knife slipping between ribs. He knew how to push her buttons, and the worst part was she couldn’t say with certainty he was doing it on purpose.

Either way. Once Father was on his feet again, even Jones would defer to him and she could keep her father safe by staying away from him. Until she found Stockman and made him fix her, she needed to limit her contact with her Father.

Slimy mold brushed against her body and she restrained a shudder. As much as she hated to admit it, Jones was right about the sewers. The tunnels were cold, filthy and riddled with disease, not to mention the Kraang patrols hunting them. The two of them alone couldn’t move Splinter, but they did need a base somewhere safer. 

And yet, moving was impossible until Splinter was well enough to move him, and the longer they stayed in the sewers the sicker he would get. Sickness was outside her experience, and she was willing to bet Jones had never dealt with it either. But then, she admitted, he had surprised her with his immediate treatment of her father. Karai knew basic field medicine, but she had never needed to use it and she could not get close to her father without her animal instincts welling up. She had only been able to bind her father’s wounds before the urge to hurt him drove her away. Casey’s knowledge of first aid was a stroke of luck, and likely the one useful thing to come out of his life of thrill-seeking.

Hesitating at the mouth of the sewers, Karai tasted the air. Finding antibiotics shouldn't be too difficult. But the issue was finding which ones would work on Splinter, who was neither human nor rat. Perhaps if she raided a pet shop or a library-

Something flashed in the darkness, grabbing her attention. Karai trained her eyes on the familiar figure racing along the rooftops.

She hunkered back into the shadows, watching the duplicate as its face twisted into an unsettling grin. She waited until he had vanished among the rooftops before slithering out herself.

Dropping down to street level, Karai took care to stay hidden, knowing even rumors of her appearance would send the city’s survivors swarming to find her. The reward had been out on her head even before the Kraang had taken over the city and now they would only be more desperate, more determined.

Coward, she thought with a curl of her lip. If Father- if Shredder wanted to find her so badly, why didn’t he look for her himself?

Finding a veterinarian's office with a shop attached was simple enough. Finding one with half an aisle just for books was a stroke of luck. The problem was reading them. She hadn't calmed down enough to shift back to her human form, leaving her stuck without hands. Her snake hands mangled the paper and soaked it in spit. She ruined three copies of "A Guide to Rat Care" before she hit upon the idea of using her tail to flip the pages. It worked well enough and she soon found what she needed and retrieved it from the back. She took as much as she could fit in the backpack she had borrowed from Casey, as well as the book. She also took advantage of the caged snakes and hamsters- although she avoided the rats. Her mutant form's hunger was independent from her human body's hunger and she needed to slake it every chance she got.

On the way back, she took a meandering, indirect route to keep anyone who may see her guessing and to get an idea of possible dens away from other survivors. Several, she noted, were being forced to pay supplies to the Foot in exchange for protection. Those exchanges were of little interest to her. Trying to stop them would only result in sending her position to her enemies and earn her nothing but terrified looks from those she tried to aid. They did, however, provide useful information as far as the Foot patrol patterns. Anywhere Splinter went had to be far outside Shredder’s circle of influence.

By the time she returned to the sewers, most of her stress had dissolved. Enough to change back, but not enough to deal with Jones when he was being a dick.

With a worn sigh, she stepped back into her human skin, and into the cracking walls of her patience.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Thanks to Tyusha for catching an error in my Japanese.

Casey Jones had many talents, and waiting around while others were in need was not one of them. There were only so many pieces of garbage to burn, only so many times one could count and organize supplies, only so much debris to clear away. With nothing left in his power to do, Casey settled back against the cold tile wall and kept watch. Barely audible even in the silence of the sewers, Splinter's breathing labored on. Every so often, he checked Splinter’s injuries, and changed the bandages once. There was nothing left to do but watch the dark.

The noises in the background were steadily getting louder. Tensing, he reached for one of his hockey sticks, his eyes sweeping from doorway to doorway and finding nothing in the inky blackness.

But despite what his eyes told him, every raw instinct he possessed told him something was there.

A low chuckle echoed around him, and Casey recognized the voice as Leo's.

But that was not the identity of the intruder.

"Really? You wanna go for round two?" he asked, exhaustion weighing his bones like a jangle of keys in the hallway.

"And ruin this setup you got here? Wouldn't dream of it," Slash said from the darkness.

Casey's grip tightened on his weapon. He looked back at Splinter's defenseless body. Tension built in his chest. God, he needed to let off some steam. "So leave before I kick your ass."

"You, defeat me?" Slash laughed. "Not likely, Junior."

The sound of his father's name for him slammed into his head like a beer can thrown from the end of the room. No one knew- not even Raph. Which meant-

"Go near my family," he said, "and I'll kill you."

Slash laughed. "So volatile," he said, "that's what I like about you, Junior," Slash said. "We think alike."

"We're nothing alike," Casey said, "You're just-"

"I've been watching you, Arnold Casey Jones," Slash rumbled. "And you aren't worth their time. They never told you about old Slash, did they?"

“You tried to kill them, you lunatic!”

"They abandoned me!" Slash said "I was their brother and they threw me away because I was too angry and broken!" Slash's breath heaved. "But then they find you. You're everything I was, yet Raphael calls you his brother."

"Well, maybe I'm just better than you," Casey said, his voice concealing the icy ball of dread in his chest.

"Once they know what you are really like," Slash said, calm again but serious, "they'll chuck you out too. Once they know how you treat your father, once they know how worthless you are, they'll be done with you. We will settle this then. I'm sure you'll thank me by the end of it."

A moan echoed around the chamber. Casey turned involuntarily to see Splinter moving.

When he looked back, the mouth of an empty tunnel stared back. Casey spat a curse through his teeth, and took a shaky breath. Slash was wrong. There was no way the turtles or anyone else could know just how unstable he was. "Splinter?" he asked, kneeling by him.

Hamato Yoshi's eyes were a bit cloudy, but aware. They flitted around the room, assessing their surroundings before coming to rest on Casey. “Casey?” he asked uncertainly.

Casey lifted the mask from his face. “Yeah,” he said, “it’s me.” Splinter levered himself up to a sitting position.

"Where are my sons?" Splinter asked as he cast his eyes around the dim room. “April?”

"They’re fine,” Casey assured him, “They made it out of the city." He weighed the thought of mentioning Leo’s injuries, unsure how much Splinter knew of his son’s condition. Splinter himself wasn't in great shape-

Almost as if prompted by his thoughts, Splinter broke into a coughing fit. Casey grabbed a clean bandana and handed it to him. Thick yellow mucus came up.

"Here," Casey said, collecting some of the bottled water, "This too."

"Leonardo?" Splinter asked, his voice heavy with concern and pain as he accepted the bottle, “is he-“

“He’s alive," Casey said at last, “Or he was. We got- separated," he finished, his face flushing as he thought of how easily Slash had defeated him- how he’d let Raph and Leo and everyone else down. “Karai said everyone got out, so I think he’s okay. Or as okay as he can be, at least.”

Splinter’s breathing lapsed into a coughing fit. After it passed, he looked to Casey. "And you? How did you find me?"

"I didn’t," Casey confessed. "Karai led me to you."

"Miwa?" Splinter asked, turning again to check their surroundings, "Here?"

"No," Casey said after a pause, "She's out scavenging.” Which reminded him. “Hungry?” Casey asked, moving over to their far too small stockpile.

“No,” Splinter said, peering into the darkness, “You should have gone together.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” Casey muttered, opening his penknife, “But neither of us wanted to leave you here and I guess I just got the short straw. Here, you need to eat something," he said, changing the subject, as he opened a can of lentil soup. 

Splinter blinked, then looked at the extended utensils uncertainly. A gnarled hand placed the can in the fire to heat. Only the slight trembling of Splinter's hand gave away his pain.

“I have ibuprofen if you want it,” Casey offered. “If, well. you can.” He didn’t know if rats could have ibuprofen without dying or anything, and even if they could that didn’t mean Splinter- who was neither human nor rat- could.

“No,” Splinter said, “It is only a little pain. We may need it for later.”

“You sure?” Casey asked, eying Splinter. His breath was still wheezy. "Shredder really did a number on you.”

“I’ve had worse,” Splinter said, “Save it for later." Before Casey could protest, Splinter turned the subject. “Do you know when Miwa will be back?”

At the memory of her, his chest throbbed. “No idea,” he said once he’d swallowed, “She’s usually gone for a while.” Casey took a breath, getting ready to ask Splinter if trusting Karai was wise, but Splinter spoke before he could.

“And what of your family, Casey?”

He paused, thrown off guard by the unexpected question. “I don't know," he said. "But they're together. Dad's the meanest thing in this city. He won't let anything touch her."

Splinter's assessing gaze landed on Casey, and he bristled under the look. Even though his mind was clouded with pain, the ninja master could discern the finest shades of grey in someone's words. Furthermore, something suspiciously like pity lingered in the master's eyes. Casey was not going to put up with that, thank you very much. “I’m just sayin’ he’d keep her safe,” he said.

“And you think he can?”

“Well, duh,” Casey said, spreading his hands, “I mean, he is my dad. He’s a badass, too.”

A low metallic whine hummed in the distance, stopping their conversation. As it grew closer, they froze, standing still and silent until the echoes faded into the depths of the sewers. "I told Karai we needed to move," Casey said in the silence. 

"A sound idea. Our home in the sewers is compromised, soon course they would think to search for us here. If we stay, it is only a matter of time before they find us."

Casey paused, and discarded his apartment. With Splinter in this condition, it was too far. He shouldn’t have to travel more than half a mile. But they needed somewhere defensible- somewhere not riddled with disease.

He thought again of the pad the industrial area of Astoria. The warehouse was far closer than the apartment, and it would be warmer and cleaner than the sewers.

“I might know a place,” he said, looking over to Splinter. “It’s not too far, and more importantly it’s not cold and wet." 

“Oh?” Splinter asked.

“The problem will be getting Karai to agree with moving,” Casey said.

“Getting Karai to agree with what?” a voice cut into the darkness. Casey jumped. Splinter’s head merely turned. Geez, did nothing startle him? Casey wondered.

“We are discussing a move to a safer location,” Splinter replied as he stood. “My daughter,” he said, his voice soft despite the pained rasp still braided into it. Casey felt his stomach turn at something in Splinter’s tone as Karai gingerly stepped closer.

“…Father,” she whispered, and the tension in the air eased. Karai's vulnerability evaporated, but her face was not so closed as it had been just hours ago. “You're in no shape to move. Here," she said, unslinging Casey's backpack, "I brought you some medicine. Once you're well, we can worry about moving."

"Casey, didn't you say you had a place in mind?" Splinter asked.

"A couple miles from here, yeah," Casey said, "I have a safe house."

"Why on earth do you need a safe house?" Karai said, "You're a normal high schooler!"

"Well it's coming in handy now, isn't it?" Casey shot back. "After I started cleaning the streets, I knew I might have to lay low sometimes." No need to mention he'd had it going for a solid year before he hit the streets. No need to mention that sometimes it was a place to hide from the very thing he wanted to protect.

"And you have supplies there?" Karai asked.

"Enough for a few weeks, yeah," he said.

"I don't believe I can go far in this condition," Splinter said, his voice tapering off into another coughing fit. 

"We'll take it a day at a time," Karai said, "get some rest, father. We'll see how you feel in the morning." 

Was it even morning outside, Casey wondered as Splinter laid down on one of the foil blankets he had brought. "My turn to take watch, Jones," Karai said. "I'll give you about four hours, then we'll switch."

"Fine," Casey said, shrugging off his harness. "Sounds good."

But despite the tiredness in his bones, sleep did not come easily. His thoughts would not stray from the people no longer by his side. Was Robyn safe and stable for the night? Would their father know how to handle one of her fits if it came? Had Leo been treated? Was April dealing alright after losing everything- again? And Raph- was Raph keeping it together?

Eventually, fitful sleep came. He dreamed of familiar voices fading into a glowing green mire.

**

The next couple days passed slowly. They had enough supplies to last for a few days, and with a careful regimen of rest and medicine, Splinter's condition improved rapidly. But as Splinter's strength increased, so did the patrols. Karai and Casey were forced to lead some away and destroy them, which only drew more when their remains were discovered. The patrols in the sewers had grown too numerous in the networks of tunnels for them to risk staying.

Although far from full strength by the time they agreed to move, Splinter was capable of keeping pace with Casey despite his wheezing. His movements lacked their usual fluid grace, but he remained as silent as before. Creeping from the sewers like blood from a wound, Casey and Splinter moved above ground while Karai distracted the Kraang on the surface. She had a better chance of escaping their pursuit than Casey did.

The barren streets patched with debris and rusting cars conducted the sound of patrols. Kraang infested the streets like ants in a neglected kitchen. But Casey knew the hidden alleys and little passages through the city as well as he knew the creaky boards in his house. Although they started near the edge of his mental map, he'd dodged policemen and Purple Dragons alike enough times to make evading Kraang patrols just another notch in his belt. As they went, Casey kept an eye out for his father's white station wagon, but saw no sign of it.

 

Thankfully, they didn’t have to go farther than a couple miles to get to the pad, and they reached the area without incident. However, the lock had rusted since Casey had been by last, and he struggled to get the padlock to snap open. Once it gave up, Casey heaved the door up. Splinter slid inside, and Casey closed the door behind them. “There’s a few different ways outta here, so bugging out is still an option if we gotta,” he said as he fiddled with a lantern on the shelves.

Casey's crash pad was clean, but he felt a twinge of embarrassment at the spartan accommodations anyway. Everything in the crash pad, with maybe two exceptions, had been scavenged, stolen, or bartered for with repair work. Consequently, everything was worn and greyed with age. Metal racks lined the walls, stacked with cans and cracked tubs of medical supplies wedged against boxes of blankets and spare clothing. A workbench constructed from boxes and a warped plank rested in the corner, littered with wire scraps, bits of metal, and assorted odds and ends. The center of the room was empty except for a fire pit built from broken bricks. Furniture was difficult to come by cheaply. 

Splinter moved to the center of the room, taking in his surroundings. "You put this together?" He said.

“More or less. Used to be a base for a couple wanna-be drug dealers. They ended up, er… skipping town, so I moved in,” Casey said. No point in mentioning they’d skipped town because he’d beaten them to a gelatinous pulp when he realized they were trying to pawn their crack near his sister’s school.

He tossed his backpack on the ground by the workbench, claiming the far corner. With a curse he realized he'd left his tools at the apartment. Good tools were one of the few things you couldn’t find in the trash, so he only had one set. He couldn't take things that needs fixing to the pad without getting his father's attention, so he just ferried the tools back and forth, working on smaller things in his room and constructing bigger things- like the taser and his retractable skates- at the pad.

“How are you feeling?” Casey asked, breaking away from his thoughts.

“I am fine," Splinter said, glancing back at the door. "Stiff, but that will pass.”

“She’ll be alright,” Casey said. “Karai's tough.” He dragged a bin of medical supplies off the shelves onto the concrete floor. “Let me check your bandages.”

“You haven’t eaten today,” Splinter said.

“Neither have you,” Casey said, opening the tub, "I'll make something in a sec. Now hold still."

Splinter obeyed and Casey changed the bloody bandages in silence.

“Once Miwa returns, we need to discuss our plans for the future,” Splinter said as Casey balled up the old cloths and threw them in the fire pit.

“Can we trust her?” Casey asked as he dug out his book of matches.

Splinter looked back at him. Casey fidgeted under the sensei's gaze. “I get it,” Casey said, “She’s family, and the thing with the Shredder doesn’t change that. But I think the mutation on top of everything else made her a bit not-right in the head, y’know?.”

Splinter's hands knitted together. “Your concern is warranted. So far, she seems to have coped with the mutation better than I did, but our experiences were also vastly different. She has the truth of her birth and her life with the Shredder weighing her down. Her only advantage is that she has people to support her. I hope it is enough.”

Unsure of what to say, Casey lit the tinder and blew the flame to life. He hadn’t interacted much with Splinter, but even he could see how devoted Splinter was to all of his children- even Karai, who had been raised to hate him. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, family came before everything else. Even Shredder couldn't change that Karai was still part of Splinter's family. Even though he had raised her, Shredder was not Karai’s blood and never would be. Yet on the other hand, if Karai went rogue, Splinter could lose all of his children. Which made this separation a good thing, he realized. Since Raph and the others were out of harm’s way, Splinter could focus on fixing Karai’s head as best he could, and Casey could focus on keeping Splinter safe.

With any luck, this mess would be straightened out before the turtles and April came back. 

“You turned out alright,” Casey said, “and she cares about you. That’s something, right?” he said, not entirely sure he had managed to say what he was trying to get at.

“Yes. It is.” Splinter said, orange firelight dancing across his face, “And both of you need to eat to keep your strength up.”

The sliding door rattled open just as Casey got the soup bubbling. “I thought you were going to lock the door,” Karai said as she slipped in.

“Well you didn’t want us to lock you out, did you?” he asked.

She narrowed her green reptilian eyes at him. Casey did his best to act nonchalant under the intensity of her gaze. He wasn't sure he managed.

“The soup will be ready soon,” Splinter said, pulling two metal bowls from another clear tub. “You both need to eat.”

“And you, Father,” she said. "You need to get your strength back.”

“Then we need to figure out what our game plan is,” Casey said.

“Game plan?” Karai said, stepping closer to him. “There is no ‘game plan’- it’s two warriors and you against the entire Kraang army and the Foot.”

“it’s better than just doing nothing!” Casey snapped, stung.

“I don't know if you noticed-”

“Yamete, both of you!” Splinter’s voice rang out, clear as breaking glass. “Arguing will achieve nothing.” He stirred the can full of soup as he continued. “While I agree something should be done, I don’t believe we are in a position to do anything at the moment. However if nothing else, we can be vigilant.” He looked up. “We need to know if the Shredder has allied with the Kraang or not. It may be possible to play them against each other, and we need to keep tabs on any retro-mutagen Stockman produces. We will need it when we push the Kraang out of the city.”

“We can’t do much until you’re on your feet,” Karai said.

“Perhaps not. But inaction does not befit a shinobi.”

“Only two of us are real shinobi,” Karai countered, “if something has to be done, I can do it. I don’t need him blundering around and alerting the Kraang."

"So I’m not a ninja. Fine," Casey said, "but I can hold my own!”

“Right,” Karai said, a single eyebrow lifting, “and that’s why I had to bail you out.”

“Enough, Miwa,” Splinter said. “Casey may not be a shinobi, but he has skills just as vital to our efforts.” He set two bowls of soup on the other side of the fire. “He knows this city far better than either of us, and he’s proven to be a capable mechanic. As for his combat prowess-” Splinter paused, and Casey’s pride smarted. “He is unconventional, but effective. To dismiss him would be a mistake.”

Karai did not look convinced, but she picked up the bowl.

“I agree with both of you,” Splinter said as they ate. “I do not believe we are ready for a head-on confrontation at this time. However, espionage and sabotage have always been key skills for a shinobi. any information we gather about the Kraang- and about the Shredder’s plans- will aid in our victory.”

“Yeah, I guess Casey can help when it comes to fighting,” Karai said, “but when it comes to stealth-”

“-Certainly, he’s not on the level of you and your brothers,” Splinter said before Casey could argue, “but it’s clear he’s had experience with staying unseen. I think bringing him along the next time you venture out would be wise.”

“I don’t need him,” she said. “He should stay with you. “What if the Kraang find this dump? You’re still recovering.”

“She’s got a point,” Casey muttered, “I mean, you’re a better fighter than both of us put together, but you just got on your feet. If the Kraang show up...”

“Two can accomplish what one alone cannot.” Splinter straightened. “While I recover, you will train together.”

“Splinter, he’s not a ninja- he doesn’t even know the basics!” Karai protested.

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here!” Casey retorted, “I don’t want to work with her.”

“I’m afraid we have no choice,” Splinter said. “There is no one else. Just the three of us.” Splinter made eye contact with Karai. “He will learn. He will not be a trained shinobi, but he has other strengths. His strengths will cover your weaknesses, as yours will cover his.”

Casey scowled. He hated to admit it, but it made sense. Still didn’t mean he had to like, it, he thought, missing a familiar red band at his side. “Fine. When do we start?”

Splinter gathered the empty bowls and set them aside. “Immediately.”


	4. Chapter 4

It had been a long time since Splinter had seen nighttime on the surface. He couldn’t see the stars through the thick, colorful clouds laid down by the Kraang, but knowing they were just beyond the windows was a strange feeling. He cast another look around the bare concrete room, and watched Casey and Miwa sleep on.

Splinter had hardly expected training them to be easy, but both of the children were making this more difficult than anticipated.

Both children were adept warriors, their differences in strength and technique almost perfectly complementing each other. Casey was rough and brutal in combat, while Miwa’s motions were as graceful as if the shinobi masters of old had trained her. She was too perfect, each of her katas and movements so rigidly practiced they allowed little room for improvisation or flexibility. If up against less educated shinobi, or those on her level, this would not prove a serious issue. But against the Shredder, her teacher, it would be fatal.

Casey was just as vulnerable, if in a different way. His entire fighting style was based off improvisation and impulse. There was little, if any, structure to his style. When he had room to move, Casey’s true strength shone: his pure, raw instinct. Not the same kind of instinct that Michelangelo had- and Splinter’s heart ached at the thought of his youngest son- but instinct beaten into him through experience.

It was not difficult to determine that Casey led a hard life, between his behavior patterns and the way he spoke- or did not- of his family. Splinter wasn’t even sure Casey had any parents around to monitor him, despite what he claimed about his father. It would certainly explain a lot if he did not.

Regardless, it was easy to tell from Casey’s fighting style that he was used to fighting as a necessity, that he was comfortable using any means at his disposal to walk away the victor. The way Casey sparred against Miwa was different than how he sparred with Raphael or April. Against her, Casey moved with vicious instinct. It was clear he did not entirely trust her, and was trying to put a strong foot forward.

That was the key, he thought, folding his hands together. They did not trust each other. She thought of him as far below her skill level, and he feared her for reasons Splinter had to admit were justified. In any other setting, it would have been easy to combat this by using training methods they would deem overly demanding or unfair so they would unite against him.

However, their hideout didn’t have the space or equipment to allow for such training methods. With the Kraang ruling the city and scanning the sewers for their presence, going outside to train wasn’t a wise idea, either.

There was also the concern of whatever had been following them on the way here. It had left once it realized Splinter had nearly pinpointed its location, so it had probably not seen where they went but it knew the general area. Most likely, it was one of the Shredder’s scouts. They would need to be extra cautious to avoid drawing attention to themselves over the next few days. They needed to avoid coming and going as much as possible. *herehere

Thankfully, he still had some time to meditate on an adequate solution. The rest of the day had been filled with assessing their current knowledge, and where they had gaps that needed filling. As expected, Miwa knew quite a lot about the shinobi arts of sabotage and espionage, while lacking experience. Casey, as was proving extremely common between the two of them, was almost the opposite. He knew little about the technical aspects of planning and execution, but the way he spoke of it made it clear that Casey had a fair amount of experience with sabotage. An interesting duality. With their limited resources, it would be difficult to bring them to their full potential.

Funny that he would miss the sewers so much when he was forced to leave. He wondered what became of the heirlooms he had brought to America when he had left Japan in grief. He hadn’t brought much along. The only things left from his time as a human were things of great personal significance- such as the armor and weapons of his clan. The weapons his children now carried.

Splinter tended the coals of the fire burning in the metal trashcan as he looked back at the sleeping teens under his care. Away from the two of them, Miwa slept leaning against the wall wrapped in a blanket. She slept peacefully, but he knew that at the slightest disturbance, she would awaken and hone in for the kill. Casey lay on top of a sleeping bag, his gangly limbs braided with a thin cotton blanket. Unlike Miwa, he did not sleep easily. Even sprawled across the floor, his entire body was tense. No doubt he was worried about his family.

The watch Casey had strapped to one of the shelves beeped. About midnight. Time to change the guard. Splinter entertained the idea of allowing the children to sleep on. He would not get much while his sons and April were still out there somewhere. But it would not help anyone if he did not heal quickly. Once he was back to full strength, they could move their training to a more isolated part of the sewers- and maybe, just maybe, get some of his things back. Even at full strength, he needed his cane to manage days his arthritis flared up. Some of the weapons and equipment down there would be useful in the fight ahead. Others were purely sentimental- such as the folder of drawings he kept under his bed along with other small trinkets his sons had made for him over the years.

Casey stirred and sat up. “What time is it?” he asked as he stretched.

“About time for you to take watch,” Splinter replied.

Yawning, Casey scratched the back of his head. “Shoulda woken me,” he said, standing up.

“I was about to,” Splinter said, “but you’ve both had a trying day. There is no harm in a little extra rest.”

The teen grimaced. “Didn’t go so well, did it?”

“You’re both adept in your skillsets,” Splinter said, “But of course, there are areas that need improvement.”

Casey analyzed him, suspicion sparking in his eyes before he changed the subject. “Isn’t it time to change your bandages?”

“Yes. I believe so. But I can do it myself-” Splinter began, reaching for the bandages.

His shoulder spasmed. Sharp, arcing pain tore down his side and Splinter restrained a gasp.

“Let me,” Casey said, moving over to him.

“It’s not serious,” Splinter said as he shrugged out of the top of his robe and let it pool around his waist. “And we have limited supplies.”

“It’s just a matter of looting the places no one else thinks to look,” Casey said. He peeled off the first bandage, and Splinter suppressed a pained shudder.

Casey worked quickly as he changed the bandages. “Lucky Karai found you in time.”

“Yes. I am fortunate,” Splinter said and tried not to think about Leonardo, who had not been so fortunate. “Miwa pulled me from the waters, and it is clear you have some experience with first aid.”

He only intended to turn the subject away from Splinter’s own close call, but the teen’s hands stilled anyway. “Yeah? What about it?”

Intriguing. Why did his interest in this topic concern Casey?

“Simply an area I neglected to inquire after,” he said, “All of my sons have basic training, and I imagine Miwa has some as well. It is good that you also have some."

“Yeah, well, I have a kid sister, you know. Lots of bumps and bruises.” Casey’s voice was light, but his body stayed tense. Something more- something significant- went unvoiced. Splinter's instincts told him two clear things: one, that whatever Casey was concealing was important, and two, that prodding now would lead to neither gained trust nor answers. Casey was private about his home life. Splinter had assumed that it was his way of protecting his family. But now, he wondered if perhaps his father were involved in something illegal- something he was afraid would make his father a target of Splinter's sons.

Or perhaps he was overthinking this. Maybe Casey was simply unused to being evaluated on his skillset by an authority figure. The thought drowned in vocal disapproval from Splinter's instincts.

“I don’t believe you’ve mentioned your sister often- her name is Robyn, yes?”

“Yeah. That’s her,” Casey said, tying off the bandage. Tension drained from his shoulders, but Casey's voice tightened.

Unthinking, Splinter put a hand on the teen’s shoulder. “I am certain she is fine,” he said. If there was one thing he knew about Casey Jones, it was that he was devoted to his little sister. He wouldn’t be here looking after a tired old man and putting up with someone he distrusted at best if he thought there was anything he could do for her.

At the contact, Casey flinched. “I know she is. Like I said, she’s with my dad, and he’ll take damn good care of her.”

Sensing he had crossed an invisible boundary, Splinter pulled his hand back just as Casey stood and threw the bloodied bandages on the fire.

“Your father and sister are still in the city, then?”

“Yeah. More or less. I talked to them before I ran into Karai..”

Splinter chose his words carefully. “Do not misunderstand, you are more than welcome here. I believe you will be useful in the fight ahead. However, if you would rather-”

“-I’ll be more of a help to my family here, fighting the Kraang than I would be taking up their resources,” Casey said. “It’s the reason I started bashing heads in the first place: to protect my family.”

Determination sparked in his eyes, and Splinter was reminded of a time long ago when a similar light had danced in Oroku Saki’s eyes. However, even from his brief acquaintance with Casey Jones, it was clear that despite his rough edges, Casey had more compassion and a bigger heart than Saki had ever had. It was clear now why Raphael was so drawn to him- they were kindred spirits.

“You will have plenty of chances to ‘bash heads’,” Splinter said. "And. Thank you for everything you’ve done for my family.”

Casey fidgeted. “You oughtta get some rest, Master Splinter. The floor ain’t getting softer.”

He chuckled. “No. I suppose it is not. Good night, Casey.”

“Night.”

As Splinter laid down and drifted off to sleep, the last thing he saw was Casey, knees drawn up to his chest, staring into the fire with a pinched face.

**  
She awoke to the taste of blood in her mouth. Karai surfaced from her nightmare, panting as it faded from her memory like smoke in the wind. Standing and stretching, she spat into the corner of the room, feeling fresh blood fill her mouth. Her tongue explored the cut on her gums, and she winced. Her teeth had grown.

Casey looked up at her, his eyes glistening in the dark. "S' not your watch for another two hours," he said. The shine was gone now. Perhaps she had imagined it, she thought as a green glow washed over the room. It wouldn’t be the first thing. 

 

Some bone inside her fingers shifted and she locked the scream in her throat. "I'll wake you early," she said, turning towards the stack of cans to hide her twitching hand. Thankfully, Splinter slept on.

"I got this. Really," Casey said.

Burning pain and the metallic smell of mutagen lanced through her brain. "Just. Let me." She said through gritted teeth.

He shifted, an exasperated sigh punching the air. "Fine," he said, his words bookended by a quiet beep, "I set the timer for four hours."

She gritted out a thank you, but did not turn around until she heard his sleeping bag rustle.

She crossed to the lantern and sank to her knees. Her eyes told her scales had sprouted down her arms, that her skin had bleached to a sickly white. But her groping fingers felt nothing but metal and cloth.

It's in your head, she told herself. You will not change tonight. You will not change now.

("People never change, Karai." Shredder said. She was much shorter then, much younger. And she adored him, his every word etching itself into her brain like a brand on a baby's skin. "They only rot.")

Something deep inside her mind trembled at what that meant for her. She knitted her fingers together and dug her nails into her skin, focusing on nothing but the pain. Not enough. Not enough. Her chest squeezed, she felt herself melting away-

Desperate to stop the transformation, she clamped her sharp teeth around her wrist. Bone crunched. Blood welled under her teeth. She wrapped herself in the pain, cloaking herself from the dark things swirling in her brain.

Well on her way into rotting into an animal, and all she wanted was one more day with her father. As many as she could get before things worsened beyond repair.

One more day, she told herself as blood trickled down her throat. Just one more day.


	5. Chapter 5

Casey heard Splinter rustle in the blankets as he sat up. Almost immediately, Splinter got to his feet. “Where is Miwa?” he asked.

Casey shrugged, stirring the food in the pan. “Said she had to go ‘out.’ She does that a lot. Summer sausage?”

“And you just let her leave?” Splinter asked, either ignoring or oblivious to Casey's hints that he didn't want to talk. He hadn't been able to sleep at all so after an hour or so of tossing and turning, he had tried to take his watch back. She had been in a foul mood when he approached her. However, before things had gotten too heated, she had stormed out.

“Dude, I’m not her mother,” Casey snapped. “‘Sides, as I’m sure you saw yesterday, I can’t stop her.”

“Yes. My apologies,” Splinter said, meeting Casey’s eyes. “It is not your responsibility to manage her and I should not hold you accountable for her actions.” Splinter stepped over to the window and peered out. “Although I would say you held your own against her quite well yesterday.

The teen snorted. “Yeah, the floor and I got along just fine.”

“I mean it,” Splinter said. “Especially for having no formal training, you did well.”

“My dad knows some stuff,” Casey said. Granted, most of that “stuff” involved Casey getting slammed against a wall or restrained. When his father was angry, all bets on kindness did not pay off. But he couldn't get too upset about it. That was how he'd learned to get out of a hold.

The heat of the fire radiated through his clothing, but Casey did not remove his shirt. It was the only thing left between his scars and the open air. Some of his scars were normal enough- old cuts from fence posts and scrapes from barbed wire. Hockey covered for others, like the three missing teeth in his smile. But there were others that could not be explained away- discolored patches of skin from a scalding coffee pot sprinkled across his side and upper arms, splashing over older cigarette burns on his back and clustered shadows of broken bottles smashed on his chest. And the last thing Casey needed, even now, was people poking at things they didn’t have a clue of understanding.

Family came first. Always.

Something exploded in the distance. Casey got to his feet, and Splinter lowered the makeshift curtain. “A distant patrol. They are not interested in us.”

Splinter turned to Casey. “As soon as Miwa gets back,” he said, “We must begin.”

**

Karai was back before the next half-hour ended. Immediately, Splinter began drilling them again. It was clear he wanted to talk to Karai about her absence, but Casey was certain he was hoping to speak to her privately.

Splinter began with some basic stretches and katas to warm up. Karai did not complain, although she clearly thought such a rudimentary review of the basics was below her. Casey didn’t see the need to drill the same mistakes movements thousands of times either, but he’d be damned if he told that to her.

But just when he’d decided ninja stuff wasn’t so bad, Splinter told Karai to teach Casey some rudimentary throws. The only thing that kept him from protesting was the fact that Splinter hadn’t had a good night and wasn’t up to doing something that rigorous himself. Casey and his old beau the floor spent the next hour catching up. After about an hour, he understood a couple techniques to Splinter’s satisfaction. However, he had to admit he had learned something. Getting out of a hold was one thing. Getting out and buying some time was another.

“You will need to drill those every day,” Splinter said. “Repetition is the key to mastery.”

“I can’t wait,” Casey said, rubbing at his ribs. 

Then Splinter turned his attention to Karai. “Miwa, how much medical jutsu do you know?” he asked.

“Enough,” she said, crossing her arms. "I've never needed it before."

"Medical ninjutsu is a necessary skill for every shinobi... and every fighter."

"I know," Karai said, "I've been well trained."

Splinter pulled the bin of first aid supplies over. "Show me. bind Casey’s arm as if you were treating a wound."

At Splinter's signal, Casey sat next to the bin. Karai strode over towards it and collected her supplies. "Hold still," she ordered as she began to wrap the bandage around his arm.

She cinched the bandage, and Casey pulled his arm away. “It’s too tight” he said.

Karai grabbed his elbow. “It has to be tight to stop the bleeding.”

“Yeah, but not too tight or you’ll cut off the circulation.”

“So how tight is ‘too tight’?” she asked, tying the bandage off viciously.

Casey tried to slip two under the bandage, but could not. “One, my fingers are going numb,” he said. “Two, you should be able to slip two fingers in. I can’t even get one under there.”

“Oh, why does it matter?” she snapped. “Either way, it’s not coming off and that’s the important thing.”

“As Casey said, a tight bandage can hurt more than it heals,” Splinter said. “He has experience. Listening to him would be wise.”

“I don’t need a review of the basics,” Karai said, getting to her feet. “I know I can handle the Kraang myself if you would just let me!”

“You will be safer together,” Splinter said, his hands clasped in front of him. Casey slid back from the pair. Family spats got ugly, and a fight between two feuding ninja could be nothing but lethal. “You have different skillsets," Splinter continued, "but that does not make your styles incompatible.”

“Or is it that you don’t trust me?”

“Miwa-”

“Don’t call me that!” she snarled, and her face changed. Her fangs elongated as hard white scales spread across her hands. “I am not some helpless bird you need to shelter to make up for the way you failed my mother!”

Casey winced. Any moment now, Splinter's hand would strike-

But instead, Splinter’s hands hung loosely by his sides as he stared at his daughter. 

Breathing heavily, Karai turned and stormed out the door.

Splinter sat down, crossing his legs and trying to assume the meditation pose Casey had seen him in numerous times before. But he could see Splinter’s shoulders shaking, and that the bandage he had applied last night was dirty again.

“Let me change that,” he said at last, untying the one from his arm and collecting the first aid kit from where it lay kicked to the side on the floor.

“Thank you,” Splinter said. Casey felt the awkwardness press around them.

“Sorry,” he said at last, only because he couldn’t think of anything else to say, “I shouldn’t have criticized her.”

“No, do not apologize,” Splinter said wearily, “I hoped you would. The fact that she could not take criticism is no fault of yours. Doubtless, the Shredder expected nothing less than perfection from her.”

Casey finished changing the bandage, and tossed it into the fire. “Do you want me to go after-”

“No.” Splinter closed his eyes. “she needs this time to herself.”

To keep busy, Casey went through his gear and made sure everything was charged and intact. But there was only so much maintenance he could do without his tools. He added them to the list of things he needed to pick up when they went out for another supply run. If they could manage that without murdering each other, at least.

When he finished organizing everything, he had some extra room in one of his pouches.

Glancing over at Splinter, it was easy to see he hadn’t quite achieved the usual level of peace that he usually reached when he meditated. Between his injuries and his daughter, that wasn’t surprising.

Splinter was in pain. Casey was desperate to do anything but sit around. They both needed a distraction.

“Hey,” he said, opening his mouth before he thought too hard about it and kept silent, “I need an upgrade. Any ideas?”

Splinter opened his eyes and looked over at Casey. “Smokebombs, perhaps. There are many simple base recipes. I don’t know if we have the ingredients.”

“Worth a shot, right?” Casey said, sitting across from Splinter. “Maybe we can grab the stuff on our next supply run.”

Splinter produced a piece of chalk out of nowhere and began to write on the floor.

**

The next hour passed quickly. What started as a simple lesson evolved into a discussion of chemistry. Academics did not interest Casey. Yet somehow, Splinter could take the brainy side of chemistry and make it relevant to the explosive part Casey was actually interested in. When Mr. Smith talked about chemistry, he made something that should have been exciting boring. When Splinter discussed it, he made even the technical stuff sound interesting. Furthermore, he hadn’t just explained what the various formulas were, but how they worked. Idly, Casey wondered if Splinter would be willing to help him with his trig homework, then pushed the thought away. Trig class and the hockey team were the least of his worries right now.

Just a week ago, he was so worried he’d be kicked off the team. Even with April’s help, the nuances of trig eluded him. Although April was a whiz at math, she wasn’t as good at explaining things in a way he could understand. Casey liked to be hands-on, to touch it, throw it, bite it or break it. He couldn’t do that with math. And especially when things happened with the turtles, their math tutoring sessions had devolved into a chance to talk in private about everything they went through. April had helped lift his grade some, but he wasn’t sure if it had been enough.

It didn’t matter now. It hadn’t mattered for a long time. Losing the team shouldn’t even be on his mind right now.

His gaze fell on the shogi board chalked on the floor by the fire. That had happened, somehow. Splinter had been caught up in a story from his youth, and couldn’t quite hide the flare of excitement in his eyes when Casey mentioned he knew how to play. Casey never intended on telling Splinter he’d learned it during his weaboo phase several years ago, but he was glad the knowledge came in handy now.

The door creaked, and he looked up to see Karai stalking back in. Casey stood up as she closed the door behind her. At least she looked somewhat sorry, he thought as her eyes went to her father, but that didn’t excuse what she’d said.

“How is he?” she asked before Casey could think of something scathing to say.

“Alright. No thanks to you.”

“Look, I know I lost my temper,” she said, her unsettling green eyes flicking over to Casey. “But what I said was true. I’m not helpless and he needs to trust me if we’re going to survive this.”

"He shouldn’t, but he does," Casey said. “Don’t you get it? He needs you."

Her eyes flickered over to Splinter, then wandered over the chalk-covered floor back to Casey. “No. He doesn't,” she said.

“He does,” Casey said, crossing his arms. “We don’t know where the brothers and April are- they could be dead for all we know. If he loses you, he doesn’t have anything left. I’m not saying you have to call him ‘dad’ or anything like that, but you pretty much won the dad lottery. The least you can do is be nice to him!”

Splinter turned in his sleep, drawing both their gazes.

"You do care, don’t you?” she asked, looking back at Casey.

"I like him and all, but I wouldn't say I-"

“No. I mean- When I met you, and for a while after,” she said at last, “I thought you were just in for the thrill of it. That you didn’t understand what was at stake with the Kraang.”

He remembered his sister’s gunk-streaked face, her terrified sobbing and nightmares after he’d rescued her from Snakeweed. “Thrill's part of it,” he admitted, “but it’s always been personal for me. My family owes a lot to the turtles, even if they don't know it. Someone's got to look out for their dad when they aren't here.”

Something settled in Karai’s face. “I’ll talk to him tonight.”

“Good.” Casey turned back to the fire, then decided to extend a peace offering. “You should eat first. We have some soup left. Hungry?”

Her green eyes glinted as she stepped forward. “Famished.”


	6. Chapter 6

Despite their new understanding, an awkward silence hung between Casey and Karai through the rest of the day. Splinter slept another hour or so, then awoke to silence. He made sure they had eaten, and began again with lessons. He did not touch on the medical techniques again, but had them run through another set of basic moves and enforced ten long minutes of meditation. Casey could feel the unspoken words hanging between Karai and Splinter, and went to sleep earlier than usual to allow them a chance to clear the air.

As always, his sleep was heavy and dreamless. When he came back to himself, he felt more exhausted than when he had first gone to bed. With a grunt, he rolled on to his side, curling up to compensate for the chill in the air.

Something in his surroundings changed. His eyes cracked open a little, and realized that everything had gone silent. Splinter and Karai’s shadows flickered on the far wall.

“I think he’s still asleep or he’d have said something.” Karai’s voice lanced through the miasma hanging over his head.

Something pulled over his shoulders, and he dimly recognized the feeling of a blanket grasped by long, thin fingers being pulled over his shoulders. Splinter’s hand released the blanket, yet rested on his shoulder.

“As I was saying, I don’t blame you for what happened to her. I was angry. I didn't mean it.”

Splinter exhaled. Casey felt the warmth of Splinter's hand leave his shoulder. “But you were not wrong,” Splinter said, “Were it not for my folly, things with the Shredder would have ended much differently.”

“But you at least acknowledge that. Fa- Shredder never did.”

“You do not have to call him what I do. I know things are complicated between you-”

“He means nothing to me,” she said, her voice flat. “He told me he loved me, but he just wanted to hurt you.” The fire crackled. “And I don’t think we can get past that. You keep calling me ‘Miwa’, but in a way she did die in that fire. Like it or not, the Shredder has shaped who I am. I can’t escape that.”

“I know, my daughter,” Splinter said, his voice soft, “You are not the baby girl I lost all those years ago. But you are still mine, and getting to know you again would be an honor.”

“You might not like what you see when you get closer,” she said. “Everything I am is molded by Shredder and his hatred of you.”

“You are my daughter.” Splinter replied, his voice shaped with conviction, “Nothing changes that. Not your past, not your future. No matter what path your destiny sweeps you down- even if we must part ways- I will always love you.”

“Those are bold words,” Karai said, and half-asleep as he was, Casey agreed.

“No parent should feel differently.”

Metal clanked as Karai shifted. “Either way,” she said, “I want to make the most of our time together.”

“Agreed,” Splinter said. their shadows came together.

Casey closed his eyes, and sank back into the dreamless void to cover the empty pit in his stomach.

**  
Time passed. The days got colder. Casey had thought he’d prepared for winter with a box of blankets, but soon that ended up barely passable. Every night, they lit a fire in the center of the room, and the person on watch was responsible for tending it. Casey was keeping a careful list of things they needed, knowing they would likely stir the Kraang up when they emerged to resupply.

After her conversation with Splinter, Karai was more open around him. She still had her moments of temper that sent her into the city, but the trips got shorter and less frequent. Conversely, she had begun to have trouble sleeping. getting her up in the morning got more and more difficult as the nights grew colder.

Splinter also steadily turned up the heat of their training. He made Casey’s hockey coach look like a kindly grandma with the speed and quality he demanded in class. But unlike Coach, Splinter rarely raised his voice. Even though Casey went to bed sore more often than not, he found himself looking forward to the training sessions. It gave him an outlet for his fear, his anger, and kept the building black ball in his belly at bay.

Playing shogi developed into a nightly habit- they only played one game, maybe two if it were a short round. While Casey wasn’t a huge fan of the game because of the embarrassing memories it summoned, providing an adequate challenge to Splinter became something of a personal goal. Sometimes, Karai would play against Splinter as Casey watched, other times Splinter mediated a game between the two of them, giving advice that was sometimes helpful, and sometimes a test.

Casey estimated about two weeks passed before they began to run out of food. He had stockpiled enough food for a month, but that was only accounting for himself and his baby sister, not three people who were regularly training from dusk to dawn. Splinter was moving much easier now, too, but he little catches still tugged at his steps, and if he moved too quickly at the wrong time, he could not quite hide the resulting jerk of pain.

However, he now took an active physical role in training exercises. Even injured, Splinter far outstripped either of them in combat skills. For the first time, Casey had a real idea of how scary the Shredder was. He had beaten the crap out of Splinter, while even Karai could not land a blow on Splinter unless he allowed it. It forced Casey to take even the boring drills seriously. Casey knew he would never even touch Splinter's children or even April in skill level. He was too old to learn anything new, too tall to be graceful, too skinny to be strong, too stupid to be cunning. But at least he could keep up.

Even with their supplies running low, Splinter refused to let them scavenge until they could show their teamwork had improved, then he made them promise to be careful, to prioritize their safety over the supplies, to stay together, and several other precautions. He could see now where Leo- and Raph, although he tried to pretend otherwise- had gotten their mothering natures.

It was a new experience for him, to have an adult waiting for his return. As long as Casey was back before his sister's bedtime, his father didn't give two cents what Casey was out doing as long as he didn't come home with cops hanging from his ears. His father trusted him to take care of himself, knew he was tough enough to handle a few sprains and bruises if he got jumped. On the one hand, it was a bit insulting that Splinter was concerned. But a part of him knotted deep in the pit of his stomach knew Splinter was projecting his concern for the brothers and Karai onto Casey. And even knowing it wasn't meant for him, that knot didn't want to let Splinter down.

Casey and Karai left at dawn, both equipped with empty backpacks to carry supplies. For once, they did not argue. Karai followed him. Casey did not bother with the stores. Most of them were already picked clean. However, warehouses from which they were supplied would be inaccessible to those without a key or the dedication and luck to break in while escaping detection from the Kraang. He always kept a duplicate set of his father's keys on him after one too many incidents where his father would mislay the key and need to open something quickly. This included the warehouse that supplied his father's store, which had been resupplied only a week before the Kraang invasion.

They got to the warehouse without incident and filled their backpacks. They rarely spoke, yet the silence was not awkward.

"that should do it," Casey said at last, "least on the food front. We still need batteries for the flashlights."

"We could check some of the apartments we passed on the way here,” Karai suggested.

"Worth a shot,” he said, zipping his bag closed, “Let’s go.”

While it was only a few blocks to the residential area, it felt much longer. Theses street was packed with abandoned cars. the hum of distant Kraang patrols echoed around them. The first complex they tried was unlocked, and they slipped inside.

They were confronted with a hallway leading to several doors. “We’ll be more efficient if we split up,” Karai said, “There can’t be anything that dangerous in here.”

He picked the lock of the first door, and slipped inside. He hadn’t broken into someone’s apartment for a while, but he still felt the instinct to check the usual places for jewelry and other valuables. But the dingy appearance of the apartment- the faded wallpaper and the cracked chairs- reminded him he wasn’t here to pay the bills. If he’d needed to do that, he would have gone to a wealthier part of town. He was here for batteries, and the best place to find those in a small Queens apartment was in the kitchen.

Casey went through the drawers quickly, pocketing matches and candles and a single, half-empty pack of double A batteries. A start. But they needed more, mainly triple A. A far more fortunate find was a multi tool and an adjustable wrench. He collected those.

Turning his attention to the bedroom, Casey swept through it quickly. Some cheap jewelry glistened on the dresser. Without Robyn waiting for him back at the pad, it was easy to let it be. But he did take a bristle brush he glimpsed in the bathroom for Splinter's fur.

What would Splinter think of being called a rat? The thought made him stop as he stuffed the brush in his pack. The turtles were comfortable with being called turtles, but Splinter had been human once. Was he alright with being a rat? Would he go back to humanity if he had the chance?

The sound of a slamming door across the hall jarred him out of his thoughts, and he checked the drawers of the desk. Score! Another pack of double A batteries, and a small unopened bottle of fireball whiskey. Casey had little interest in alcohol. His father had immunized him of any desire to get plastered. But it was an excellent bartering tool. Finding some lightweight blankets under the bed, he folded them and tied them to the underside of his backpack with some paracord. Leaving the apartment open, he moved down a room.

This one smelled like heavy smoke as soon as he got the door open, and his eyes lit up. He personally didn’t like cigarettes because of Robyn’s asthma, but like the alcohol, it was too valuable not to take. The apartment produced another book of matches, two half packs of cigarettes, and another half-pack of double A batteries.

“Geez, shouldn’t be this hard to find some triple A batteries,” he grumbled as he went to check another apartment. But on the way out, he a flash of red resting on the dresser grabbed his attention. He stopped, raising his mask as he did so.

It was a plush pirate fox,similar to one Robyn had gotten at Coney Island five years ago. Robyn had been about five, and he had been about thirteen. That had been the best day they'd had in a long time, just the two of them and their father. She’d loved that doll the moment she’d laid eyes on it. the shiny hook and the wooden sword had captured her imagination, and although Casey thought the video game was overrated, he’d made it his mission as her big brother to win her the doll. Egged on by his father, who supplied Casey with a steady stream of quarters, they’d emerged victorious after about half an hour. She still slept with it to this day.

A door opened somewhere as Karai moved from room to room. Startled out of his thoughts, Casey put the doll down. He needed to focus. Robyn was safe with dad. That was the important thing now.

Something rustled on the other side of the next door. Casey froze, his hand just above the doorknob.

“What’s that?” Karai asked, and he started. Stupid ninja stealth.

“I’m not sure,” he answered, and decided to just open the door.

No sooner had his hand touched the knob than loud barking tore through the silence like a jackhammer.

“Shut it up! Now!”

“Do I look like a dog trainer?” Casey hissed, wrestling with the door.

Both of them froze as the low whine in the distance began to get louder.

“Leave it!” Karai ordered.

Out front door and up the fire escape they ran. Behind them, Kraang barked orders at themselves as they spread in a circle around the apartment, cutting off their escape routes one by one.

She scaled the fire escape. Casey followed, toying with the idea of throwing an explosive puck as a distraction.

“This way, now!” Karai said when they couldn’t go up anymore, and jumped across a narrow alley to the neighboring apartment.

Casey went to obey, but as he did, his eyes went down to the crowded street. his eyes locked onto an overturned rusty white station wagon.

His landing fell apart. Casey hit the roof like a brick and rolled. Staggering his feet, he started for the edge. He had to see the license plate. He had to know. From his vantage point at the edge, he was at the wrong angle to see the plates, but he could see the force of the crash had shattered the windows. The sound echoed in his mind, unearthing memories of scalding coffee and shards of glass pelting his body because he wouldn’t (couldn't) keep his mouth shut, because he'd taken too long to brew it-

Something grabbed his upper left arm and pulled him over the edge of the building onto the fire escape. The memory of fingers thick as rope clamping on his arm, of breaking glass and the smell of his own blood welled in his mind. He threw his head back in a vicious butt, desperate to get out of his father's grip. Something crunched under his cranium, and a female voice swore.

"Stay still!” The flashes of memory lifted at the sound of Karai's voice. Warm blood dripped onto Casey's shoulder.

Only her urgent warning and the approaching clicks of the Kraang ship stilled his struggles. They huddled on the fire escape, Karai frozen as a marble statue as the Kraang swarmed over the apartment not two buildings over. “Jones.” Her voice was a low, low whisper.

“What?” he asked when the question pierced the thoughts swirling in his brain. He had to go back. Had to be sure-

"Are you alright?"

Everything inside him ground to a halt.

His mouth was already moving, words spilling out like gas from a ruptured tank. A single clear fragment of a thought shone through the mire of fear, despair and desperation roiling in his chest: the last thing he needed was Karai and Splinter in his business.

A cracked laugh choked from his throat. "Gotcha good, didn't I? Here I thought you supposed to be Miss Awesome and-"

Her eyes sharpened into slits. "Now is not the time," she snapped.

Casey shrugged. "It was just a joke," he said, "no need to get your tail in a twist."

She turned away from him, her lip curling. "Well if you're finished horsing around, we need a distraction." Under the weight of her voice, he felt his personality reassert itself. They had to get out of here. Or, specifically, he had to get her out. He needed to return later to check the car.

“Yeah. Of course,” he said, and pulled one free of its belt. “It goes off in fifteen seconds,” he said, lighting it. He held it for a few seconds, counting in his head before he threw it, taking care to curve it away from the green car.

They were gone before the echo of the explosion eroded.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay. As I said, the whole story is written- save one scene- but life kinda kicked me in the teeth. Updates are migrating to weekly, because with my schedule I'm not sure I can handle a more frequent update pace. Again, I'm sorry for the delay.

Splinter was waiting for them when they returned. The way he looked between them told Casey that his dad senses were tingling. He pushed past father and daughter, hoping Splinter would leave it alone. “What happened? Are either of you injured?” Splinter asked.

“No, we’re fine,” Karai said, wiping her bloody nose. Her tone of voice indicated they were anything but. Casey refused to acknowledge her gaze.

“Yeah,” he said, unslinging his pack. “We got pretty much everything on the list, and a bit extra too.”

"I didn't take you for an alcoholic," Karai said wryly as Casey pulled the whiskey and the cigarettes for his back.

"It's for bartering," he said. He put them on a back shelf and replenished the stack of cans.

Karai was also unpacking, her motions stiff and sharp. Splinter looked between the two of them. “Why don't you tell me what happened out there," the sensei said, sitting by the fire.

In succinct words, Karai relayed the mission’s events to Splinter. Casey corrected her in a place or two, each time prompting her to close her eyes before proceeding in a tighter voice. By the time she finished, you couldn’t have squeezed a dime through the tension in her words. However, she omitted the incident on the fire escape. Perhaps she didn't think it worth telling to Splinter, or maybe she had some other reason. He didn't care as long as they left him al-

"Casey?"

"-huh?" They both looked at him, Karai’s inhuman green eyes still flickering with suppressed rage, and Splinter’s sparking with something that looked suspiciously like disappointment. He wasn't sure and he didn't want to know.

"Do you have anything to add?"

"No."

As he stalked to the corner to clean his gear, he told himself he didn’t care what Splinter thought. He ignored the others as he cleaned, tightened and tested his taser and other pieces of equipment, only rising to fetch the fertilizer that was a necessary ingredient in one of the smoke bomb recipes Splinter had taught him. It was cold in that part of the room, but his pride would not allow him to move closer to the fire.

Eventually, Splinter approached him. Casey leaned over his work, ignoring him until a bowl of food was slid before him. “You haven’t eaten since you returned.”

“Thanks,” he said, waiting until Splinter moved back to sit by the fire before he set his work aside and eat the soup.

As he ate, he watched Splinter and Karai speak in hushed tones. The tell-tale scrape of chalk chirped on the concrete floor. Their shoulders touched as they leaned over whatever diagram Splinter was explaining to Karai. He hadn’t seen them so at ease with each other since this entire fiasco began.

He leaned up against the concrete wall behind him. The chill of the winter radiated into his back. Karai and Splinter were more than able to take care of themselves. They didn’t need him, Especially since Splinter was up and about. Once they were asleep, he would go back.

His decision made, he moved closer to the fire because he was starting to get cold. Casey volunteered for the second watch, and Splinter took the first. Casey made sure his gear was packed and ready to go, then curled up in one of the newly acquired blankets and waited for Splinter to wake him.

It seemed only a blink passed between the moment he fell asleep and the moment when Splinter woke him for his watch shift. Casey sat up and stifled a yawn. To his dismay, Splinter put some water on to boil. Great. He was making tea. how long was that going to take?

“Do you want some?” Splinter asked.

“No. Thanks.” Casey stretched, and settled in a waiting position by the fire.

The silence spread between them. After a time, the lid of the pot began to rattle, and Splinter picked up a tea bag. “Save for the incident with the dog, it sounds as though your mission went smoothly," he said, dipping it in the water.

The sensei’s casual, silky voice was non-threatening, but Casey could think of several reasons why he would bring that up now, none of which he wanted to discuss. Karai might have told him what happened, and he didn't want to deal with that, either. The sooner he could slip away, the sooner he would know more about what had happened to his family.

“I messed up,” he said, too tired and groggy to put any real heat into his words, “I don’t see a point in talking about it.”

"Do you believe I expect perfection from you?”

He paused. He’d never thought about what Splinter expected from him before, and it was a scary question. Whatever shinobi standards were, Casey knew he didn’t have a prayer of meeting them. At the same time, he knew better than to think Splinter had any high expectations.

And yet a small part of him remembered that Splinter had taken the time to train him. Splinter wouldn’t have bothered if he were a total failure.

“I don't know what you want from me,” he answered truthfully. And, he thought, he wasn't sure he wanted to find out. Knowing he couldn’t meet expectations was one thing. Knowing they were out of reach was another.

The teabag was extracted from the water. “I don't know what you expect of me either,” Splinter said. “This is a sharp learning curve for both of us.” The teabag went onto the fire. “I do not expect perfection from any of my students. I may drill you to perfection in the dojo, but real combat is far messier and less controlled than my training exercises.” He took a sip of the tea. “Mistakes are how we improve, painful as they may be in the short-term.”

Casey leaned back with a snort. “You tell that to Leo, too?” He regretted mentioning the turtle as soon as the words left his mouth, but Splinter did not look ruffled.

“I do,” he said. “But Leonardo is as stubborn as his brothers.” Splinter curled his hands around the steaming cup of tea.

“It’s late,” Casey said. “You should get some sleep.”

Splinter downed the last of the tea, and gave Casey a quick look, as if he wanted to say something more but the words would not come. Then Splinter sighed, and set the mug down. “Good night, Casey.”

“Night.” He waited, one leg bouncing with restless energy as Splinter laid down in his nest of blankets and closed his eyes. Karai still slept in her spot against the wall in that awkward sitting position. Casey waited, counting to himself and glancing over at Splinter to determine when he was sleeping easily.

It seemed like hours, but Casey knew it was only a few minutes before Splinter’s breathing slid into an even rhythm. Once Splinter was asleep, Casey slipped on his harness. He opted to climb the rafters and slip out the window, knowing that raising the metal door would create enough racket to wake at least one of them, and they wouldn’t let him go. Besides, if he didn’t return it wasn’t like they'd be any worse off.

In the emptiness of the night, Casey travelled quickly. Kraang patrols seemed to stick to the same regular patterns, which made avoiding them all the easier. It wasn’t long before he found himself on the same street where he’d seen the car, and located it again with ease from a vantage point on the roof of a nearby building.

It lay, windows shattered and frame bent, underneath the light of a flickering street lamp. From here, he could not see the license plate. He cracked the knuckles of his left hand one by one before he slipped onto a fire escape and climbed down. Crouching in the shadows, he listened for the approaching whine of a Kraang patrol. The only sounds in his ears were the sparking of the street lights, and the distant whine of Kraang patrols down other streets.

Standing, he darted across the street and moved around the car. A familiar license plate stared back. “No,” he whispered, the sound leaving his throat before he could clamp his teeth around it, and he staggered forward to the wreck. Both doors on the passenger side hung open. Casey peered inside. A flash of red called his hand forward. Casey pulled his sister’s doll free from the debris. Dark stains streaked down the side, and a messy pink seam laced up the left leg- his own handiwork in the wake of one of his father’s rages.

There was no other sign of where they could have gone. No footprints in the debris, no blood trails. Nothing.

Nothing.

Casey pounded the frame of the rusting vehicle, helpless anger pulsing in his veins. Stuffing the doll in his pack, Casey stood and looked down the street. Would they have gone back to the apartment? Had the Kraang got her?

Oh god, what if she was mutated like April’s dad?

In the distance, the droning of the Kraangbots had gotten louder. The crushing emptiness in his chest burned away under an unrelenting swell of wrath. With a formless shout, he sprinted toward the noise. The sound of laser shots filled the air around him. Bobbing around the spray, he brought his hockey stick up in a vicious slash across the first Kraang to enter his range. A loud screeching alarm broke the night. he didn't care.

Casey Jones was out for blood.

He dispatched the first wave of Kraang with the agility of a striking snake. Surrounded by empty mechanical shells, he leaned on the hockey stick, panting.

More were coming. Rage still burned in his blood, still thundered in his chest like the crackle of lightning but in the brief break, his eyes fell on the wreck of car again.

This would not bring his sister back. He needed a plan. And he was awful with plans. Casey knew how to bash heads, how to break and enter, how to steal and sabotage. But finding a person- especially a small person- was not in his skillset. He broke things. He couldn't fix them.

There was nothing more he could do here, nowhere else to go but back. Maybe, just maybe, they hadn't realized he had gone.

Casey darted down an alley, through the side streets and cut through a building to gain distance from the noise. Behind him, the shouts of the Kraang swelled. He crept through the darkness, looking over his shoulder, scanning the streets before he moved. The last thing he needed was to lead the Kraang back to the others.

After taking several roundabout loops and dead ends to ensure he wasn’t being followed, Casey found his way back to the warehouse. 

Something deeper than exhaustion bit at his soul. Something that chilled his chest and numbed him until all he wanted was to sleep until the world unmade around him. With a glance over his shoulder, he slid the window up and slipped back inside.

“And just where have you been?” Karai’s cold voice cut through the silence.

The light of the fire played across her harsh features. Splinter still slept away, laying curled on his good shoulder.

“Can we not do this now?” he asked, taking off his hockey mask.

“Explain yourself,” she said, striding towards him, steps solid as a cinderblock.

“I needed some air,” he said, shrugging out of his harness. It joined his mask on the floor. “not like you’ve never taken off on your own before."

“I never ran off when I was supposed to be on guard!"

“No, you ran off and left me with no idea if you were going to come back at all!”

A hand pressed on his chest. Gentle strength pulled them apart, and Casey tensed at the unexpected touch.

“Children.” Splinter's tired voice pierced his anger.

Karai was panting, shaking like a ringing alarm clock. “You don’t really care, do you?” she asked, her green eyes stabbing into Casey. Her fangs were starting to lengthen. “You lied to me, you think this is all a game-“

“Miwa, calm down-“

And then her human form melted away. Hard scales spread across her body like blood in a bathtub, her face twisting with anger. Her words distorted into an angry roar, but her eyes stayed locked on Casey.

“Miwa, listen to me. Listen to my voice,” Splinter said, moving between them.

“Don’t,” she said as she pulled away. "I can’t stop it-”

“Yes, you can,” Splinter said. Reaching out, he placed a hand on her snout.

“No,” she cried, instinctively striking out. With a cry of pain, Splinter flew back and crashed into the shelves.

Pushing past Casey, she climbed the rafters, broke through the window, and vanished into the darkness.

Casey ran over to the mess of shelves. “Splinter?”

Splinter was already picking himself up. “Go after her,” he panted. A dark patch spread on Splinter's terrycloth robe.

“You’re bleeding-”

“I can patch myself up.” Splinter leaned against the wall. “Don’t let her go.”

Shrugging back into his harness, Casey clambered back out the window.

In the distance, he could see her serpentine figure slithering across the rooftops. “Karai!” he shouted. Kicking out his skates, he sped off after her.

If she heard him, she did not acknowledge it. Casey sped up, and launched an explosive puck to draw the attention of the Kraang he knew were patrolling nearby.

“Karai, wait!” She turned down a blind alley. He followed. Dropping down behind her, he cut off her quick escape. “Karai-"

“Don't.” She turned to him. Her slow, labored voice indicated that speaking took quite a toll on her in this form. “I thought if I was careful I could keep him safe. hide this. But-”

“He doesn’t care. You know he-”

“This form wants to eAT HiM,” she hissed, shoving her face up against Casey's. "I can’t be near him like this.”

“Maybe he knows something that will help,” Casey said, “some ninja stuff or-”

“Stop,” she said, her breath hissing through her teeth. “Just stop! I had it under control. I was fine. And then- you."

"Karai-" She pressed him against the wall, cutting him off.

"Keep him safe,” she hissed, “Or I will end you.”

With a powerful flex. She sent Casey sprawling to the ground. By the time Casey got to his feet, he stood alone in the alley.

A shadow fell over him, and he looked up. There was only a silhouette in the darkness, but he could make out Leo' s shadow.

Not Leo. Leo didn't stand like that.

Two fingers lifted. Then one curled down. A single finger stayed extended- ten seconds, twenty- then Slash vanished into the darkness.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that part about life kicking me in the teeth was premature- turns out that was just a love tap. Things are hectic and unsure for me now. I’m honestly not doing too well and I‘m going to a place with spotty internet, but I swear I’ll finish this story before the end of 2018. As I’ve said, it is finished. It only needs some polishing. Thanks to those of you who have stuck with me thus far. Your comments keep me going.

Dawn broke through the window as Casey relayed Karai’s parting words to Splinter. When Casey finished, Splinter sighed as his brow unfurrowed. “If she had told me about this, I could have done so much more for her,” he said, weary. 

“We have to do something,” Casey said, braving eye contact for the first time since his return, thankful for his mask. “We can’t just leave her.”

“We will not. I know of techniques and medicines that may help, but I do not know if it will be enough.” Splinter rubbed his forehead, then turned his gaze to Casey. “Why did you leave?”

The shortness in Splinter’s voice began to muster the disembodied anger in Casey’s chest. But the exhaustion battered into the ninja master’s face scattered his defenses. “While we were out scavenging, I thought I saw my dad’s car in a wreck.” Casey clamped his teeth around the tremor in his throat, balling one hand into a fist. 

“Was it?” Splinter asked, his voice gentle, the full weight of his attention hanging on Casey. 

“Yeah. But there was no sign-” Warm wetness welled under his nails. .

“-I didn't see-”

On the last word, his voice cracked. Casey closed his eyes as he fought to get his unruly emotions under control. A spidery hand rested gently on Casey’s shoulder, and this time, Casey couldn’t stop from leaning into it. Tears built behind his eyes, but Casey held the line with two shaky breaths and a surge of willpower. Tears were the last thing needed right now. Forcing his face to unpinch, Casey ironed the wrinkles out of his voice. He was himself again. “So what do we do now? The Kraang and Shredder are both gonna be after her. ”

Splinter’s hand withdrew. “I cannot help Miwa until I know more about her condition,” Splinter said, “But there may be something I can do now for your family.”

Casey’s head snapped up. “What?”

“There is a spiritual plane connected to this physical plane. Certain masters, such as myself, can walk that plane to locate others. I am too weak to do it for my sons or April. They are too far, even with their latent talents. But your father and sister are in the city, I can use your aura as a focal point to locate them. It would be even easier if you had something of theirs.”

“No,” Casey said. There as clothing here her size, but she had never worn any of it- if anything had gone missing she would have noticed and he knew he wouldn’t be able to withstand her questions.

Then he remembered the doll.

“Wait. Wait, I do,” he said, scrambling over to his pile of blankets. With unsteady hands, Casey fished the pirate doll out of his backpack.

Splinter had already moved into the familiar meditation position. “This may not work, Casey,” he warned, “I can’t promise anything.”

“I know,” he said, handing Splinter the doll and kneeling across from him. “But I have to try to find her.”

Splinter’s hands extended as a low hum of interest escaped his throat. Casey couldn’t imagine what had caught his attention and, he thought as he gingerly took Splinter’s hands, at the moment he didn’t care. 

“This may take a while,” Splinter warned. “If you keep her in your thoughts, it may speed up the process.”

“Take your time,” Casey said. Splinter gave his hands a gentle squeeze, then his grip went slack. Splinter’s breathing dipped low. Casey held still, and thought of her beautiful kinky black curls and her bubbly laugh.

Time ticked by. Casey summoned memories from their time on Coney Island, from reading to her at night, from teaching her to play video games and pick locks. Other thoughts crept in- jealousy spiking in his belly as she held a tea party with their dad, kissing her on the forehead right before he and Raph went out to hunt for Snakeweed, her small hands circling his torso as he cried silently after a brutal fight with his dad- but he forced them down and tried to think only of the good things

Time ticked by. Casey’s legs fell asleep, but he didn’t dare move. Splinter hadn’t so much as twitched, and Casey couldn’t shake the fear that the slightest motion would break Splinter’s concentration.

Don’t think of that. Think of her

Time ticked by. It became harder and harder to focus, but forced himself to mouth her favorite bedtime story. After hundreds of readings, he knew every line of The Dark by heart. 

Mid-line, Splinter gasped. His hands crushed Casey’s in a grip solid as his father’s rage, then released.

Casey opened his eyes. The fire had burned low, and a pale fuzz seemed to lift from the world around him. Splinter was composed as always, but his breathing was ragged, and the bandages around his side were bloodied again.

“Are you okay?” Casey asked.

“I am fine,” Splinter replied, “But there are tens of thousands of souls who have been mutilated by the Kraang. Such widespread trauma is taxing to wade through. However, I did find your father close by. He is on the other side of the neighborhood, a couple miles away.”

“-and Robyn?” Casey asked

“Your sister is alive, and seems to be free of the Kraang. But she is deep, deep beneath the earth. I could not locate her exact position.”

“But she’s alive? She is safe?”

Splinter paused. “Yes,” he said at last. “I believe she is. She was with many other humans and what I could sense of her aura was not distressed.”

Casey took a shuddering breath, and felt stress bleed from his shoulders. She was ok.

His stomach growled, and he remembered that neither of them had eaten since the day before. "You look like shit. Let me change those bandages and get something to eat. Then you need to sleep.”

Splinter chuckled, and for once, Casey found he didn’t mind Splinter’s odd sense of humor. “You don’t look much better yourself.”

For the first few minutes, Casey worked in silence on Splinter’s injuries. Karai flinging him against the shelves had reopened some of the wounds, but thankfully the worst of it was some new bruising and bleeding.

"We’re going to find her, Splinter,” he said as he finished tying off the fresh bandage. “We’ll find her, and help her.”

“Yes, we will,” Splinter said as Casey repacked the kit, “But I’m afraid it may be some time before either of us can do anything for her.”

Casey frowned. “I thought you said you had like, meditation techniques and drugs or something-”

“-yes, but the tranquilizers are in the lair, and I am not in the condition to go down there and retrieve what I need.” 

The moment the seed of an idea wormed into Casey’s head, Splinter turned to him. “You are not to go down there,” he said, “It’s too dangerous alone.”

“I can do it. If you just tell me where to look-”

“Casey, it is not that I lack faith in your abilities,” Splinter said, “but the streets are getting more and more dangerous and the sewers are even more so. So many have been taken already. I cannot send you alone.”

“We can’t just do nothing!” Casey argued.

“We won’t,” Splinter said, “But I must recover first.”

“It’s an acceptable risk,” Casey fired back, “The sooner we fix Karai, the sooner we can fight back and find Raph and the others.”

“And we will,” Splinter said, “In time.” 

“If I don’t come back, what do you really lose?” Casey asked, trying a more tactical approach “You sure as fuck don’t need me around.”

All of Splinter’s focus snapped onto Casey. Unprepared for the full weight of Splinter’s attention, Casey shrank back a little. Had he gone too far with the swearing?

“I lose a shogi partner and a clever student,” Splinter said at last, breaking the silence. Before Casey could scoff, he pressed on. “I lose someone who cuts to the heart of the matter when he acts and refuses to tolerate injustice, who advises me with his unique perspective of the world. I would lose someone I consider a friend.”

“Come on, you don’t-”

“Lairs can be replaced, medicines remixed, territory regained and battles won another day. You, however, cannot be brought back from the dead.”

This was not how this conversation was supposed to go. But before Casey could make a crack to derail the topic, Splinter continued- eyes never wavering from Casey’s face. 

“You cannot be replaced. I need you to understand that, Casey.”

A sick feeling sparked in his stomach. Given everything that had just happened with Karai, given that Splinter had just lost everyone close to him, it made sense that he would latch on to Casey. With the turtles and April missing in action and Karai lost in her mind, Casey was his only companion. If something happened to Casey, he’d have to fix this whole mess all alone. And if anyone knew total loneliness, it was Splinter. Losing Robyn now would be bad enough. He didn’t even want to think about losing her before he’d met Raph. Splinter had come to America to start all over again after losing everything at the Shredder’s hands, had even lost his ability to connect to other humans before he found his sons. 

No wonder he wanted Casey around. He didn’t have any choice. 

"I understand,” he said. “I won’t sneak out.” And this time, he meant it. He hated waiting, hated putting off the good fight another day, but Splinter had suffered enough. The old man needed this for peace of mind. That trumped his need to fight. 

Most of the tension drained from Splinter’s face, and exhaustion retook its place. “Thank you,” he said as he positioned himself in the familiar meditation position. 

Throwing more fuel on the fire, Casey tried to sort through his thoughts as he but up the summer sausage.

When he’d first met Splinter, he’d been disconcerted by his appearance because of a bad childhood experience with rats. He had been further distrustful because of Splinter’s austere nature- anyone who trained their four sons to be killing machines, regardless of how awesome those four sons were, deserved at least some suspicion. But at every turn, Splinter had refused to conform to his expectations. The old man had the patience of a saint, the honesty of a dying man, the kindness of a foolish man and the wisdom of a cruel one. Maybe a few weeks ago, Casey would have believed the old man was trying to get one up on him, but now-

He stole a glance at Splinter. He really did care. Casey could count on one hand the number of people outside his family who had ever given a genuine shit about him, and all five of them were connected to Splinter.

That only settled it in his mind. Fixing Karai was a priority not just for the fight against the Kraang, but also to set things right again and fix the mess he’d made. Splinter was in no shape to do anything now. But there was a way Casey could fix this without breaking his promise.

“So, I was thinking,” Casey said, tapping the spoon on the side of the can, “You said you didn’t want me going in the sewers alone. Fine. But if I went with someone, that would be fine, right?”

“Miwa?” Splinter asked. “I do not think she is in much condition to help at the moment.”

“No, not her.” Casey took a breath. It’s for the old man, he reminded himself as he squashed the apprehension in his chest. "Where’d you say my dad was?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank ya'll for sticking with me so far. I know things have been on hold for a while, and I am truly sorry for that. We're on track to finish by the end of 2018, as promised.
> 
>  **Previously on _Sins of the Father:_**  
>  “Casey, the hell are you still doing at the house?”
> 
> “Looking for you and Robyn. Is she with you?”
> 
> “Yeah, she’s here. We’re heading to Macy's Laundromat to hold out with some buddies of mine. You know where that is?"
> 
> A bad taste spiked in his throat. Macy’s Laundromat. He’d heard that name before, though he couldn't remember where.
> 
> "Dad, it's not safe anywhere in the city," Casey said, "If we leave now-"
> 
> "-the streets out of the city are jammed. No way you’d make it out. If you don't want to come, that's your call.”
> 
> “Dad-”
> 
> “You're old enough to make these choices for yourself. I can take care of your sister just fine without you. I'll keep her safe. You take care of yourself. Be careful.”
> 
> Before Casey could protest, his father hung up.

“You have everything?” 

“And then some,” Casey said, making sure the alcohol and cigarettes he’d found were near the top of the bag in case he needed a peace offering. “I’ll be fine.” 

Splinter nailed him with a look. “If it gets too risky, get yourself out of danger. The medicine won’t go anywhere.”

“Don’t worry, Splinter,” he said. “I got this.”

Splinter stood for another moment, looking yet again as if he wanted to say something as Casey lifted the door open. Mindful of his wounds, Casey clapped Splinter on the shoulder. “I shouldn’t be more than a day or three, depending on how easy it is to slip away.” 

“Be careful, Casey.”

“Aren’t I always?” Casey asked with a grin as he lowered the door between them. But even as he took to the rooftops, the concern in Splinter’s eyes lingered in his thoughts. He’d come to expect red faces and angry voices when he dealt with adults. Around him, people weren’t kind. 

True, there were kind adults in his life—people who came to his crime-riddled neighborhood seeking to "get their hands dirty", as he'd heard one food bank volunteer call it to another when they thought he wasn't listening. But they weren’t here out of concern for the people who needed help in his neighborhood. They were concerned with racking up volunteer hours, with filling their feeds with photographs, or with inflating their own senses of self-worth. People like that weren’t kind.

But Splinter did things out of concern for others. Somehow, through all the bad shit that had happened to him, he'd grown tough without losing his kindness. He hadn't thought that was possible. But then, Splinter wasn't an ordinary man by any means. It was too late for Casey to be like that. He was too rough and destructive to be kind. But maybe there were still places for people like him in this world. Splinter seemed to think so.

Something clunked on the rooftop behind him, drawing him out of his thoughts. Focus, Casey. Running into Slash because he wasn’t paying attention would be a stupid way to die. While Casey doubted the mutant would do anything, it was still unsettling to know he was out there watching him. He got to the area without incident but pinpointing the correct building proved more difficult. Casey eliminated the ones without drawn curtains and the ones with shattered doors. Only two buildings had the sidewalk in front of them free of debris and sealed windows and doors. One was a hardware store. The other was a laundromat with a fallen sign. Familiarity sparked in the corners of his mind. He’d been here before, and not for a good reason.

Almost immediately after he rapped on the wood, the door flew open. Two men crowded the doorway, both wielding pistols. The first man was a lanky white man. The second, a balding black man. Purple tattoos traced down their sleeves, and Casey tensed. Now he remembered. He and Raph had broken up a Purple Dragon initiation here. It had been dark and they had entered through the back, but he was certain it was this place.

Casey's mind scrambled to come up with an explanation. Dad couldn't have known. There was no way he'd work with the Dragons. His father was difficult, not cruel.

Either they didn't notice the mask resting atop his head or they didn't make the connection. "You can't just walk in off the street and expect to join," the white man said. The black man peered at him. Casey recognized him just as he asked, "Casey?" He was a regular patron of Jones Grocery and Liquor, although never for the latter. His name was Joshua.

"You know this punk?" the white guy asked, turning to his companion.

"The Jones kid," Joshua answered, stepping back from the door, "he's cool."

"We still gotta check," the white guy insisted as Casey crossed the threshold. Cracked linoleum warped under Casey's feet. The smell of cigarettes pricked at the back of his throat as distant laughter and arguing filtered through the building.

It was difficult not to stare at the tattoos vanishing under their shirts as the white guy closed the door. He hadn't known Joshua was in the Purple Dragons. With his wife's medical bills, every month was a struggle for him to stay off the streets. He must have joined out of desperation, not that it did much good. In the Dragons, they gave their grunts just enough to keep them going, but not enough to clear the dreaded first week of the month. He could understand Joshua's case. He didn't have to like it, even if deep down he knew that if it was Robyn sick every month with an empty belly, he'd stop caring where the money came from.

But even exceptions like Joshua who joined out of desperation didn't erase the muggings, assaults and arsons committed by the other member, especially the ones done out of boredom or for pleasure.

"Is my dad here?" Casey asked.

"Yeah. He's banged up, but okay," Joshua answered.

"And my sister?" Casey asked, knowing she wasn't anywhere nearby.

Joshua and the white guy shared a look. "We'll let him fill you in on that," Joshua said at last, and even knowing his sister was safe, Casey's heart ricocheted in his chest.

"Is she okay?" slipped from his throat before he could stop it.

They didn't answer. They led him down the hall towards the back of the building. He kicked crushed beer cans out of his way, shoving the building fear deep into a hole in his chest.

Stopping before a wooden door, they opened it a crack. "Hun?" Joshua asked. Inside, Casey could see a group of Dragons gathered around a table. Cards fanned in their hands covered their faces like masks, and red chips spilled across the table. One of them, a well-built Asian man, looked up.

"What is it?" The Asian man, who must be this ‘Hun’ asked. Then his eyes found Casey. Recognition bloomed in his face, and Casey tensed.

Hun —the leader, if his expensive suit and the gilded sunglasses meant anything—stepped outside and looked Casey over.

"So you are the Junior Jones," he said.

"Don't call me that."

The Dragon laughed. "You have your father's spark," he said. Something inside Casey curdled at the words. Sparks fanned far too easily into flames. "Why are you here?" Hun asked. "If you wanted to join up, you would have come when your father gave you our location."

So his dad had known it was the Dragons. He must not have seen another way, especially if he had Robyn with him. He should have gone after them. He should have known they would need him.

"Macy's laundromat isn't exactly clear," Casey said, "I don't know this part of town and it’s not like I can google it."

"Whatever the reason," Hun said, "you are here now. Why?"

"My family, duh," Casey said.

The amusement drained from the Dragon leader's face. "Humor me, and pretend you don't think I am stupid. You would have come as soon as you knew your father was here."

"Found a food store in the sewers while I was looking for my family," Casey said at last. "It was too dangerous to clear it out alone." And too dangerous to risk pissing off someone who was clearly one of the top five members. As much as Casey wanted to tell him to piss off, he had to play this out- for now.

"I see. You can't expect us to work for free," Hun said, fixing his mirrored gaze on Casey.

"I have a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of whiskey," Casey said.

"That buys you manpower,” the leader said, holding up one finger. “And how will you pay for the things you want to take?”

“You can’t be serious-“

“Like you said, it is dangerous down there. We are low on manpower. Several of our own are already wounded. You are asking us to risk our able-bodied men on an endeavor that may not even pan out in our favor.”

"Yeah," Casey said. The leader's lips twitched.

"Comedy will only get you so far," he said.

“I have some medical training,” Casey said at last, twisting the truth a little. "I can patch your people up now, and anyone wounded after we raid the sewers.”

“Hm. How do I know your skills are worth bartering? You will need to sweeten the pot.”

"How about smoke bombs?” Casey asked, unable to think of anything else he had on hand that these guys might want.

A prick of interest. “How many?”

“Three,” Casey hedged.

“Four.”

“Fine. Four smoke bombs, the cigs and whiskey in exchange for what I can carry out of there in my pack and the manpower to back me up,” Casey said. "And I'll patch your people up in the meantime."

“Done.”

They shook. The leader pulled his hand back. "We are low on space," he said, "but you are welcome to stay with your father."

"Gotcha," he said, handing over the whiskey and the goods.

Hun gestured to Joshua and the white guy. "See to it our guest finds his quarters then treats our wounded," he said. "Now, if you'll excuse me—" Hun stepped back inside the room. The door closed with a solid click.

"This way, Casey," Joshua said, and Casey followed them down a branch of the hallway to another door. "He's in there," Joshua said.

Casey stepped up close to the door. Splinter needed this stuff to fix Karai so they could end this invasion. Everything else took a backseat to that. 

Still, his hand hesitated inches from the door. Clenching his fist, he told himself to man up. He was doing this for Splinter. For Robyn. Besides, he told himself as he forced the knock, Dad might not even be in that bad of a mood. He resisted the urge to hide behind his mask. His father needed to see who he was.

The door eased open. “Well, I’ll be damned,” his father’s voice said, and before Casey could react, Arnold Jones Senior stepped forward and threw his arms around his son. His dad looked like he’d lost a fight with a meat grinder. Healing cuts and bruises peppered his face, and his right arm didn’t fully extend.

Casey forced his arms up and returned the hug, unease and guilt turning in his stomach. Casey wasn't big on physical contact, even from people he trusted. Raph and his sister were the lone exceptions so far, and even affectionate contact from Raph took the form of punches and elbows. Anything softer was an irregularity reserved for moments too painful to share with anyone else.

His father's grip tightened, and the guilt overwhelmed his discomfort. He’d blown his father off until he needed something from him. Only the worst kinds of people did that.

“Hey, Dad.”

The door closed behind him. Arnie broke the hug off, but kept his heavy arm slung over Casey's shoulder. A small bed and a desk almost filled the room, with just enough floor space left to reach the window.

"I'm glad you're okay, son," Arnold Senior said. The injured arm on Casey's shoulders was shaking. "Where have you been?" Arnold Senior asked. "I've been so worried." His red-rimmed eyes turned to meet Casey's.

They didn't look alike. Not yet. His father's shoulders were too broad, his brow too weathered with stress, his black hair peppered with salt and ash. But Casey had his father's eyes—eyes as cold and bitter a brown as coffee left to brew too long. Given twenty years, Casey knew he would be the spitting image of his father in looks, in attitude, in temperament. Deep down, he hoped he would die—hopefully in a really badass way—before that happened but he knew he couldn't count on it. Lady Luck didn't date the Joneses.

"Around," Casey said. "Holed up in Astoria until it was clear enough to make a straight shot here."

"It took you two weeks to cover a couple miles?" Arnie asked as he settled onto the bed.

"I got held up," Casey said. Arnie gave him a suspicious look. Casey did not look away. He was itching to get this mess over with, but the last thing he needed was to piss his dad off. He seemed stable now, but Casey knew just how quickly his father’s mood could change.

"So how's Robyn?" he asked. She was safe. Splinter had promised she was. But it would look suspicious if he didn't ask about her.

His father wiped his forehead, and Casey tensed at the tell. "She's not here," her father said in a monotone.

"But she's okay?" he prodded.

Silence.

"Dad?"

At his voice, Arnold started moving again. Leaning forward, he tugged on the boots he wore. "Help me."

Casey obeyed, tossing them to the side of the bed when he had finished. "Dad, are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"—are you sure? You don't look so—"

"I said," Arnold ground out, "I'm fine."

"Sorry I asked," Casey said, feeling the sour tone slide far too easily from his throat.

“Don’t you sass at me!” Arnie retorted, standing. “This entire situation is your fault!"

"My fault?" Casey asked. "I had a way out of the city for us!"

"And I told you to wait for us at the house. We waited, but you weren't there!"

"No, you didn't!" Casey argued.

"Oh, you're going to say you forgot again, aren’t you?”

"You didn't—" he began, but his father kept going.

"You know we have to stick together. Why the hell did you think you could just go off on your own and everything would be fine?”

Casey strained to remember. The conversation had been weeks ago, and was buried under everything going on with Splinter and Karai.

“You said I could take care of myself," he said. That was the one thing he recalled with clarity.

"Yeah, I said you could, but we needed you with us more. I needed you to keep her safe."

Something clicked in his memory. His father's voice, watery and low from the distance of memory— _"Take care of her."_

"I thought you didn’t need me,” Casey said, “I- I thought you said—”

“You thought wrong,” Arnie said. “Your sister’s dead.”

“What?” Casey said, his voice cracking like an egg trod underfoot.

“We got ambushed by a patrol. She caught a blast—”

“No,” Casey said, “She can’t be-- ”

“If you’d been there, maybe you’d be right,” Arnie said, his teeth cutting the syllables. “But you weren’t, ‘cause you had the bright idea to go off on your own like some kinda badass.”

“But…” Casey trailed off. Words weren’t working. Nothing was working. He'd thought he was protecting them. Instead, he'd left them defenseless. How could he have done that?

“Feeling sorry for yourself won’t bring her back,” Arnie said, putting a hand on Casey's shoulder. “Just watch your step. It might be you next time."

“Yeah. Okay, Dad.”

Numb, Casey stepped out of his father’s room. Leaning against the wall, he slid to the floor and put his head in his hands.

Splinter had said she was alive—looked him in the face and said she was okay. If that was a lie—maybe he knew that if Casey thought she was dead he’d be useless to him—

No. Splinter had wanted them to lay low for a few days. He hadn't liked this idea. If Robyn was dead—if Splinter had lied to him—it was because he hadn’t known how to tell him.

That didn’t feel right either. Splinter was good with emotional stuff. If Robyn was gone—or if he hadn’t been able to find her—he would have told him so. 

But what reason did his dad have to lie? He loved Robyn. He never would have left her behind. He never would have let this happen.

Maybe his dad was mistaken. Maybe she’d been hit by some mutagen or something and he thought she died in the resulting fight—maybe they’d been separated or something and he had every reason to think her gone. He would ask Splinter again when he went back.

He considered telling his dad about Splinter—about his ability to sense people—but dismissed it. Better to say nothing for now, if only because if he told Dad part of it, he’d have to tell him all of it. Dad wouldn't like to hear Casey had been lying to him for months, and he certainly wouldn’t like that Casey was hanging out with a strange man he didn’t know.

And, Casey thought as he got to his feet, it was unfair of him to not want his father to meet Splinter just because he was afraid his dad would, to expect his father to ruin… whatever was going on with Splinter. He still wasn’t sure what to call that. You just didn’t make friends with your best friend’s parents. But he also knew his Dad was critical, and the fact that Splinter was a not quite man with ninja powers would be a bit much for him on top of everything else.

"Ready, Casey?"

He turned, and blinked at Joshua before he remembered his deal with Hun.

"—Right. The wounded."

Joshua smiled sadly at him. "I'm sorry about your sister," he offered. Casey slunk past him.

"Whatever," he said, feeling the apathy packed in that one word clog the forming leaks in his chest.

**  
There were about five wounded Hun wanted Casey to look at. Some of them were well outside his abilities, but he was able to do something small at least for each of them. Once the final bandage had been tied, he was released to go back to the room he shared with his father.

Tired, Casey entered the room. His father was absent, and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief. The less they talked- argued- the better. The one thing he did before he plunked himself down onto the carpeted floor was check the window and ensure it was a suitable escape route just in case shit hit the fan and he had to make a quick exit. Then, without bothering to kick his shoes off, Casey curled up under a comforter someone had brought in.

He lay there, staring at the ceiling, barely registering the cold winter night despite the frost on the window. Hours, minutes, seconds blended together—

Casey started awake.

He was in the dojo now, under the flowering bonsai tree, across from Splinter in his usual meditation pose.

“Splinter?” Casey asked, sitting up. It was then that he realized the old man was translucent— that he could faintly see the wall behind him.

“We are speaking in the dream world,” Splinter said. “I wanted to ensure you got to your destination.”

"Yeah, I made it,” Casey said, crossing his legs. “We’re going to hit the lair first thing tomorrow, so I should be back soon."

“Good," Splinter said.

Looking down, Casey steeled himself. “Are you sure you found my sister?”

Splinter’s head tilted to the side. "Yes. I am certain it was her. Why?”

"-Nothing. I guess my dad must have been separated from her or something.” Casey took a breath. There was nothing to worry about. He was overreacting.

The aura before him wavered a bit. “I cannot do it without you here,” Splinter said at last, “but when you return, I can try to find her again.”

“Really? I mean,” Casey amended, “you looked pretty tired when you did it the first time.”

“I know where to look now,” Splinter said. “I won’t have to sift through a sea of mutated minds. A second attempt should be successful.”

"Are you sure? If you say she's okay, I believe you—"

"It will be no trouble," Splinter said. "Indeed, the most difficult part will be ensuring you return in one piece."

A thin laugh leaked from Casey's throat. The tension in his shoulders dissolved. "Thank you,” he whispered.

“Be careful,” Splinter said. Again, Splinter looked pensive. Casey waited. "Wherever you are,” Splinter said at last, “there’s something poisonous pressing on your spirit.”

“Don’t worry, old man,” Casey said. “It’s safe here. I promise." This was as safe as it could get in the apocalypse. He didn’t have to worry about unexpected developments or ulterior motives. His dad and his friends couldn’t be trusted, of course, but—

Wait. Had he just called Master Splinter old man out loud? Casey realized when a mildly surprised look crossed Splinter's face. After a moment, it faded- but a hint of fond amusement shone in Splinter’s eyes.

“Even so. Be careful, my son.”

And with those final words, Splinter’s semblance faded away until Casey was alone once again in a dark, shabby room. He exhaled, his breath hanging foggy and grey in the cold air as he wrapped himself in the stained comforter. 

Somehow, the night didn’t seem so cold anymore.


	10. Chapter 10

Before the sun had risen, five people set out from the laundromat. Casey led the way, teeth clenched. Leading Purple Dragons of any kind to the Lair felt like a betrayal. He knew that the Turtles were out of the city, knew that Splinter was safe in another neighborhood, knew that this was why he had been sent to the Dragons in the first place. That didn’t stop it from feeling wrong. 

They kept their lights off at Casey’s insistence. He had been to the Lair often enough that navigating his path in the dark was easy. His companions had not. Unlike him, they weren’t used to the cold of the sewers, to the chilly water seeping into their shoes, and not to walking in the dark. A few of them may have switched their lights on anyway, were it not for his father’s insistence that they needed to keep a low profile. All complaints vanished when they heard the distant tramp of Kraang footsoldiers and the whine of the drones. 

When they reached the steps leading to the turnstiles, Casey stopped and listened in the dark. Nothing but faint echoes and the incessant dripping from the ceiling. “I think we’re clear,” he said, switching on his flashlight. 

While the others spread out behind him, he swept his flashlight around the room. Dented Kraang husks lay scattered around the lair. Dust cloaked every object in sight, and the smell of mildew swirled in the air. 

“Someone’s already been here,” Joshua said, kneeling by one of the Kraang husks. “Doesn’t look like they made it out though.”

“They might have hauled it,” Casey said, “Just cause they fought here doesn’t mean they stayed here.”

“Maybe.” Something glinted in the dust. Casey knelt and picked it up, struggling to catch the small metal disc with his gloved hand. It was a shuriken. His throat tightened. Karai had said they made it out of the city. That didn’t mean they were fine. 

If anything had happened to them, it would devastate the old man. Splinter loved his sons with a fierce tenderness he was unused to seeing in parental units. He got back to his feet, still turning over the five-pointed shuriken. They were strong, stronger than anyone he’d ever met. They had to be ok, and they’d be back soon- the sooner the better, for Splinter’s sake. He’d already failed Karai. He wouldn’t fail Splinter. The old man sure as hell didn’t need him around for protection, but for some reason he seemed to take comfort in Casey’s presence. He must really miss his sons, Casey thought as he let the shuriken fall. 

He moved toward the dojo, pretending to take an interest in the cabinets on the wall as he waited for the last of the Dragons to trickle to the back of the cavern. When it was clear, he slipped inside the dojo. Fighting the urge to kick off his shoes, he moved around the edge of the room to the small door on the other side. He placed a hand on the knob, and steeled himself before easing the door open. Reminding himself again that Splinter had sent him to the Lair for this reason, he stepped inside. 

A small cot lay against the far wall with a large iron-bound chest at its foot. At the other corner, a table with what looked like a giant wheel of cheese under a glass dome on it. Two bookshelves groaned under the weight of the books stuffing their shelves. Potted brown plants under dead growth lights took up the rest of the room

Moving to the chest, Casey unslung his pack. The unused lock wasn’t surprising once he thought about it. The only ones likely to see the contents were his sons, and Splinter trusted them. Not for the first time, Casey wondered how much he knew of his criminal past before shaking the thought away. 

On the top of the chest lay a maroon robe identical to the one Splinter was wearing now, except it was clean. He put that in his pack, and didn’t have to dig much deeper to locate the tin of incense and the other things Splinter had asked him to fetch. Wrapping everything in the robe to cushion it, he shoved it deep into his pack. Closing the chest, he clicked the lock in place before getting to his feet. Entering the dojo, he looked at the weapons hanging on the far wall. 

Those were some of the few things Splinter had brought home with him from Japan. He couldn’t let the Dragons have them. 

But what to do about it?

Laughter leaked into the dojo from the outside. He had to act now. Casey moved the larger pole weapons first, laying them under the bed and pushing them as far back as he could. Then the smaller ones, bit by bit, stacking them on top of the polearms. 

When he emerged back into the dojo, his father was there. He was holding the wooden painting of Yoshi, Tang Shen and a baby Karai. “Anything good in there?” Arnie asked, setting the wooden frame back on the shrine.

“An empty chest and a buncha books,” Casey said, stepping away from the frame with what he hoped was a nonchalant stretch, “rotten plants, too.”

“So that’s what that smell is,” Arnie mused. His eyes raked over the empty weapon racks before crossing over to Casey. “We found a buncha tools and stuff in one room. Don’t you-”

As he moved, something clattered against his father’s foot. Casey swung his light towards it, reaching for his bat. “It’s fine, Junior,” his father said, leaning over to pick something up. “I must have kicked it.”

A slim dagger rested in his father’s meaty hands. The hilt and scabbard were coated in pure black lacquer, with the one decoration being the white Hamato symbol etched into the pommel. He must have dropped it when he was moving the weapons. 

Drawing the knife, Arnie tested the edge. “This is a good blade,” he said, giving it a swing. “Solid construction. You want it, Junior?”

“Yes,” Casey said, reaching forward. But his father pulled it back from Casey’s grasping hand with a chuckle.

“Too bad. It’s mine now.” Tying it to his belt, Arnie clapped Casey on the shoulder. “Lighten up, Junior. I’m just teasing.” 

“Yeah, sure, Dad,” he muttered. 

“Hey, Arnie!” one of the Dragons called “We hit the jackpot!” 

Arnie strode across the dojo. Casey turned to follow, but turned back and collected the photo of Splinter from the shrine. Out of everything, the old man had to be missing that the most. He stashed it in the folds of the maroon robe, then left the dojo. 

The Dragons had congregated in the kitchen. Mikey kept a comprehensive stock in the pantry- everything from dry goods to spices.n How the turtles managed to get everything down here in the first place, he didn’t know. On the other wall, the door to Donnie’s lab hung open. Casey walked toward it. Donnie kept extensive notes on mutagen and its effect on people. He had to have at least some of it in a notebook or something. 

The lab had been ransacked of its electronics by the time Casey got there, but the filing cabinet in the corner was untouched. Opening the drawers, Casey chose two folders- ‘Retro-mutagen’ and ‘Karai’. Now, where did Donnie keep his tools? He needed something to explain what he was having trouble finding on the surface. 

Casey found them in the drawer of Donnie’s workbench. A few of them had been taken, but most of them lay untouched. Casey scooped them into his bag, along with a pair of half-dismantled two-way radios Donnie had been tinkering with. Once he repaired them, they could use them to keep contact with Karai. Some other spare parts lay around, and Casey grabbed those too. With one last look around for anything useful, Casey stepped out of the lab. Uneasiness curled up his spine when he stopped in the center of the room. Something was different.

The sound of Kraang soldiers marching in step had grown louder, grew louder by the second.

“Time to go,” Casey said, slipping toward the exit. “Keep your lights down. We might be able to slip past them.” 

Staying low, Casey peered out into the tunnels. Any hope he had of sneaking past the Kraang died when he saw eerie purple light shining off metallic Kraang bodies. It was a small patrol, but they had to act now to keep them from reporting back. “There,” Casey said, pulling his cricket bat free, “if we move now-”

The whine of laser guns powering up cut him off. Kraang spilled into the Lair, crowding in from the entrance by Donnie’s room. The patrol ahead of them formed a line and advanced. “This way!” Casey said, charging ahead. He took out two Kraang in a single vicious swing, dodged to avoid the pink laser bolts. With a shout, Arnie punched one of them over. A cry sounded from behind them and Casey went low, shattering the fragile knee joints. 

“Go!” he shouted, “I’ll hold the rear!” Joshua stumbled forward, cradling his arm close to his chest. Casey caught a glimpse of red, blistering flesh before turning back to the approaching Kraang from the lair. He didn’t need to fight them all. He was outnumbered and outgunned. He just needed to buy the others time.

“Junior, go with them,” Arnie said, drawing the dagger he had stolen from the dojo. 

“No way!” Casey said as he switched out his bat for a hockey stick. He would need the longer reach. 

They had no more time to argue. The pair of Kraang in the front opened fire. Casey split off from his dad with a shout, drawing the majority of their fire. He sent an explosive puck to the middle of the pack, the detonation punching a large hole in the first wave. They wouldn’t crowd so close together next time, Casey thought, backing up. “Come on, Dad, let’s go!” 

“Which way?” someone shouted from the front. 

“Three more passages, then turn to the right!” Casey shouted. More shots filled the air. Weaving across the tunnel, Casey sent another puck flying back. 

“There’s more,” his father said, his voice tense. The bright pink glow of Kraang eyes shone down every corridor they passed. 

“Right! Turn to the right!” Casey shouted to the Dragons at the front of the passage. A laser bolt struck the floor next to his foot, the flash of heat radiating through his shoes.

A loud curse sounded behind Casey as a splash echoed around him. Casey skidded to a stop. “Dad!” Arnie pulled his head out of the water, gasping for breath. The Kraang leveled their weapons at him. 

Unable to risk an explosive puck with the Kraang so close to him, he had no choice but to melee them. Flicking out his skates, Casey flew past his father, slashing his hockey stick. He dispatched one just as the other fired his weapon. Pain blazed up Casey’s side. He spasmed, his weapon falling to the ground. A faint, faint memory played- chubby hands holding a butterknife, enthralled by the outlet behind the television-

“Get up, Junior.”

A strong arm curled around Casey’s torso and hauled him to his feet. Casey ducked out of his father’s grasp, shoving the pain away. “Keep moving,” he said, allowing himself to fall behind his father.

More bolts ricocheted around him. He tossed back one explosive puck, two- then clambered up the ladder after his father, as fast as he could move despite the burning numbness of his right side. He rolled onto the asphalt, panting, feeling the pain intensify when it hit the ground. 

“Keep moving,” he said, climbing to his feet. Casey stayed in the rear with Joshua, hockey stick at the ready to serve as the rear guard as Arnie led the way back to the laundromat.

He could slip away now while everyone was distracted. They wouldn’t miss him until he was well out of sight. 

But he’d made a deal with Hun. He’d promised to treat the wounded after the excursion and Joshua needed his hand looked at. Breaking the deal, no matter how tempting it was, would do nothing but make things harder for everyone further down the line. 

The trek home took twice as long. More Kraang patrols were exploring the area, and he’d bet twenty bucks they were the same ones from the sewers. This time, they took great care not to be noticed. Once or twice, Casey aimed an explosive puck down a side street or inside a building to draw their attention so they could proceed on their route, but only in the beginning. The longer they travelled, the more his side burned and the harder he found it to breathe. He couldn’t do anything about it now. This was the worst place to show any weakness.

By the time they reached the laundromat, it was all he could do to watch their six and keep to his feet. Casey managed to hold it together until he limped through the front door of the laundromat, feeling the hitches and irregularities in his breathing. Leaning against the wall, he lifted his mask, trying to control the spreading numbness in his right side. Far away voices wormed into his head. Casey struggled to understand them, struggled to push past the miasma shrouding his mind. 

Something slammed into his left cheek. The blow snapped his head to the side and jarred enough to regain moderate awareness. “What?” he asked. 

“You square, Junior?” his father asked.

“Yeah. Think so,” Casey said. 

“Congratulations on making it back in one piece,” Hun said. “Now it’s time for you to keep your part of the bargain.”

“-Right. Joshua,” Casey said.

“Hang on,” Arnie said, “Can’t you see he’s messed up? He’s in no way to do anything right now.”

“I’ll be ok,” Joshua said, “It’s just a burn-”

“No, it’s ok,” Casey said, “I can take a look.”

“If the boy says he is fine, then he is fine,” Hun said with a look at Arnie. Casey winced a bit as his father sent Casey a glare. He was gonna pay for that later, but he was too tired to care. 

He just wanted to be back at the pad with Splinter. 

Joshua’s hand was a mottled pale brown with patches of black- in stark contrast to his usual rich brown. The ridges and bumps on his skin were most severe on the palm of his hand, with a beautiful feathering effect spreading out from the origin of the burn, curling and twining around his wrist like an infection. 

“I think it’s spreading,” Joshua said, “It- I think it was only on my palm when we left the sewers.” Casey checked the circulation in his fingers, then the motion. There was a connection between- the shape of the burn and the lack of motion, and he knew it- but he couldn’t dig it out of the fog in his head. 

“There’s not much I can do now,” Casey said, “I’ll bind it up and look tomorrow. Make sure you drink a lot of water.” Why? He strained to remember. There was another connection there, one eluding him. 

“Where did you say you learned all this?” Hun asked from the doorway, watching Casey work. 

“Found in a thrift store and did a bit of googling,” Casey said as he smeared burn cream on Joshua’s hand. He looked back at the door, looking for his father. He had to be careful what he said. “Thought it might come in handy someday.” 

Not that it hadn’t already. Unpredictable even when he wasn’t drunk, his father got upset sometimes. They couldn’t afford the hospital bills that a dislocated shoulder or burns would rack up- and that wasn’t even counting the injuries he got patrolling the streets at night, such as the bruised lung he'd gotten from Slash. If some snooty doctor called Child Protection Services out of some misguided attempt to help, then he and Robyn would have been taken away and separated. It was far better to treat the injuries himself and stay under the radar. Besides, it was coming in handy now, wasn’t it?

As soon as he’d finished binding Joshua’s hand, his father stepped into the room. Casey rubbed his temple as Arnie sat across from him. “Are you ok, Dad?” Casey asked, “You went down pretty hard there-”

“I’m doing just fine, Junior,” Arnie assured him, “But you got hit, didn’t you?”

Did he? The memory was hazy. “...yeah, I think so,” he said, his gaze wandering around the room. That was the ugliest wallpaper he’d ever seen. Why did people even use wallpaper?

“Junior,” his father said again, and his tone of voice jerked Casey out of the fog. His father hated repeating himself.

“What?”

“We should look at that,” Arnie said. “Come on back to the room.”

“Yeah. OK,” he said, standing.

He followed his father back to their room, the static in his head buzzing like a bee trapped between a screen and a door. Standing in front of the mirror, Casey peeled off his shirt and examined the wound, straining his eyes in the dim sunlight. 

The same branching lightning pattern blazed on the curve of his ribcage, spreading out about half an inch like a sunburst from the center of the strike. Pain streaked up his side at every breath, although by now it was just a dull background pain he had grown used to. He touched it, searching for any sign of broken ribs. None. Good. 

God, he wanted to fall in bed and sleep for a week. But he had to get back to Splinter. Right, Splinter was waiting for him. He’d promised the old man he’d be back tonight. 

How late was it?

Casey picked up his shirt, pulling it over his head. 

“You’re not planning on leaving, are you?” Arnie asked, “you just got here.”

“I gotta go,” Casey said, “I did what I came to do.”

Arnie stepped in front of the door. “You are not leaving when you’re like this,” he said, “I won’t allow it.”

“Dad-”

“You’d only get yourself killed, Casey.” Arnie stepped forward and laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Besides. You promised you’d look at Joshua’s hand again tomorrow.”

“Damn, I did, didn’t I?” Casey said. 

Splinter could wait another night. He would understand, right? He hoped so. He had never faced Splinter’s wrath before. Splinter didn’t seem like the kind of person to get upset over coming home later than expected- but it was so, so hard to tell. 

“Yeah. OK,” Casey said, sitting on the side of his bed. “I’m just gonna lie down.”

“This early?” Arnie asked.

“Feel like shit. Just wanna sleep.”

“God, you’re so lazy, Casey,” Arnie muttered. “If you really wanted to feel better, you’d run up and down the stairs a few times.”

Casey wanted to remind his father that every breath hurt, that he couldn’t walk a straight line much less stairs without wobbling. But he had no energy, and he let the fog close over him. 

**

The sound of thumping brought him out of the fog. Moonlight colored the room a pale, pale black. A hulking shadow stood by the window. A bottle of ointment rested on the sill next to his father. A hesitant touch confirmed the presence of aloe on his wound. “Dad?” Casey asked, his voice slurred even to his own ears. 

Arnie turned away from the window, sticking something in his pocket. “It’s me, Junior.” His father’s hand stroked his brow. “Sorry to wake you. Get some rest.”

Funny, Casey thought, that’s not what you said earlier. But however long he’d been asleep hadn’t been enough to energize him, and he let his eyes drift closed again. 

A few times, the fog in his head parted- at the creak of a door hinge, at the sound of shouting and breaking glass, at the soft, safe voice calling his name. But the pieces fell through, and Casey sank back into oblivion. 

**

Worthless. Wretch.

Her memory of the last day or so was a blur. The last thing she remembered with any clarity was the building, burning anger in her chest. Angry at Jones, at his deception, at his flippant attitude toward their situation, at her naivete at believing him anything more than a thrill seeker. Then she recalled nothing clearly until she had come back to herself on a rooftop with Foot upon her still in her snake form.

Transforming back had never been easy for her, even in low-stress conditions. It required concentration, willpower and a clear picture of herself with a sense of belonging. But now, that connection was gone, swallowed up by the beast she was now. 

Without that connection to her past self, without a clear goal to force herself into, she could not box away the tangled mass of feelings and emotions that kept her in this form. She could still see her past self, see who she had been. But now it was looking at a stranger, at someone she may have passed on the street or killed under contract. She couldn’t look at her old self, uncomplicated by mutation and the weight of Shredder’s lies, and believe this is me. 

She could say it, scream it, cry it out as often as she wanted, but that did not make it so. All it did was leave her writhing on the rooftop, hating her form, hating her past self for her ignorance, hating Shredder for everything he had stolen from her, hating herself for letting Jones get to her and ruin everything.

Exhaustion shadowed her muscles as she fought to break free of the small army crowding her in, fought through the haze still weighing on her brain. Only her inhuman strength gave her an edge in this fight. 

Human voices sounded on the edge of her awareness and she turned, trying to assess the new threat. As she did, a soft bang split the air behind her as something slammed into her. 

She went down, entangled in a heavy steel net, its weights crashing into her like the wreckage of a spinning car. She struggled, but the net only restricted her movements even more. 

I am not going back, she thought, baring her teeth as the Foot advanced on her, I am never going back to hi-

A ki-ai sounded somewhere to her left. Three footbots flew overhead. She turned on her side, biting the net as she went. Leonardo swung his mace, taking out another group of the bots.

Wait. Leonardo didn’t use a mace. 

“Hold up there, Sister!” Slash called, “you’re just tangling it more!”

“Sister?” she managed to hiss out, but he had leapt out of her sight. 

Bereft of movement, of anything, she tested her strength against the scales. Perhaps she could break the limit? It was worth a try, she thought as she flexed and strained against the metal. 

With a screech of distress, the metal broke, lashing out everywhere like a dying spider. Hm. Built for a normal human, she guessed, or perhaps Splinter. A properly forged ninja sword would slice right through it. 

Her head clearer now, she joined Slash in the mop up, but only because she couldn’t allow any of the Foot to escape and disclose her last known location. When the last bot sparked its last, she turned to the black-banded turtle. “What do you want?” she managed to grunt out around the feeling of sandpaper in her throat.

“Why do you think I want something?” he asked. “I have no quarrel with you. You’re outcast from the family. Like me.”

“Family?” she asked, forcing the word out her jaws. The other turtles had mentioned him. Jones had not spoken well of him. Beyond that, she could recall nothing of him. 

“I was just as good,” Slash said. “But they were jealous. They were weak and when I tried to fix it- tried to make the family stronger- they threw me away. They turned Raphael against me, they stole him from me.”

“Reinforcements,” Karai said, slithering a foot back from Slash. Something about Slash- maybe his face, so like Leonardo’s and yet so different, maybe it was the look in his eyes when he spoke of the Hamato brothers, maybe it was the way he hefted his mace but she did not want to spend another second around him. 

“I’ll draw them away,” he said, “I’ll be in touch, sis.”

Already sixty feet in the other direction, she didn’t bother correcting him. She had seen enough crazy in the bowels of Stockman’s lab. She didn’t need to consort with something that thought of them as siblings over a connection that didn’t exist. 

He didn’t matter now. What mattered was finding a place to meditate and forcing herself back into her body. She needed a quiet place to reclaim her body so she could go back to her father. She had just begun to know him, had just been meeting the true man behind the name ‘Hamato Yoshi’. And the thought of losing him again- even to her own weakness…

She had to find herself again. Even if it meant clawing it out of the depths of her mind piece by piece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the severe delay. 
> 
> The book Casey refers to can be found here: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/31952144-wildcare
> 
> A note of caution: while medical skills are something very useful to know, that book is designed for use by a certified Wilderness First Responder, who only has legal jurisdiction an hour away from hospital care- IE in the wilderness or during a natural disaster. Its primary focus is keeping the patient alive and stable until they reach doctors and surgeons. In an apocalypse situation like the one Casey is in, that information is invaluable, but in his normal, everyday life it's not a substitute for a trained doctor. Unless you know what you're doing, you should see a doctor for severe injuries like a bruised lung. 
> 
> If anyone is interested in seeing an example of how I picture Casey and Joshua's burns, images of the closest IRL counterpart can be found at the following link: 
> 
> https://imgur.com/gallery/lWkhr
> 
> Thank you all for your patience.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These apologies are getting redundant. Thank you to all my readers. I hope this was worth the wait. If you have a moment to spare a thought or prayer for me tomorrow, I would appreciate it- I will be testifying in court tomorrow. Thank you all again.

Next thing he knew, pale yellow sunlight seared into his eyes. With a moan, Casey lifted a hand to block the light as he sat up. Dust motes danced in the sunlight as he rubbed at his temples, trying to clear the last groggy vestiges from his mind. Although the pain in his side had faded, it grated along his ribs every time he took a breath- a less severe version of the pain that came with broken ribs.

Going to the cracked mirror on the other side of the room, he examined his injury. The red tendrils now wrapped almost around his entire chest, creeping up his spine and coiling on his breastbone. A quick glance out the window as he pulled his shirt back on showed the sliver of an orange sun sinking behind the shattered skyline. He had slept through the night and straight through the next day. Splinter was so going to kick his ass. 

Treating the wounded went by quicker than it had yesterday. Those he had treated before the excursion into the sewers were still stable, and needed little more than a clean bandage. The burn on Joshua’s hand, however, was spreading down his arm. Already, the black tendrils reached halfway up his arm. With a clearer head, Casey could tell that one of the small bones in Joshua’s hand had broken, and immobilized his hand as best he could. About halfway through his construction of the splint, heavy footsteps and the smell of sweat mixed with a harsh rusty smell entered the room. Casey did not look at his father until he finished Joshua’s splint. “Loosen these knots if it’s too tight,” he instructed, “and check the skin under it every day.”

“Thank you, Casey,” Joshua said. 

“The old man was right,” one of Casey’s patients said, shifting his position on the couch around the awkward splint on his lower leg, “you fight right in,” he said with a grin at Casey. The sincerity in his voice did not stop the vicious twist in Casey’s chest. 

“Glad I could help,” Casey said, escaping into the hall. 

He should just leave now while he had the chance. Slip out a window and book it back to Splinter’s. But Casey didn’t know when he’d get the chance to see his father again. After Robyn, he couldn’t just leave without saying goodbye. 

A small voice whispered that he didn’t have to leave at all, that he was just abandoning his father because they didn’t get along. Casey crushed it down to a rebellious marble. Ending this invasion was the only way to get his family back in one piece. 

After he’d seeing the poor shape his father was in, it was harder to believe that. 

His father’s booming laugh echoed down the hall. He hadn’t heard his father laugh like that in- god, how long had it been? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard his father laugh like that.  
He followed the sound to a door- the same door Joshua had taken him in to see Hun. The laughter had faded, and Hun was speaking now, his elegant voice cool and crisp. Reaching forward, he placed his hands on the knob.

“-that stumbling upon Splinter’s lair is very unlikely.”

Casey jerked his hand away as Hun continued, “Are you certain your son knows nothing of the previous occupants?”

“Course he doesn’t,” Arnie said, “Junior’s a sewer rat, too. Used to spend a lot of time down there, so it makes sense he’d run back to them when the going got rough. ‘Sides, he’s afraid of rats. If this Splinter is anything like the other freakshows Shredder employs, no way he’d go anywhere near him.”

“Children have way of surprising you,” Hun said, “I think it would be best to interrogate him just to make sure. Splinter may have contacted him.”

“I know my son,” Arnie said. “Even if Junior didn’t head for the hills at the sight of a mutant freak, no way would Splinter want anything to do with him. Casey’s too angry and reckless for those zen types. But he fits right in here, if what the others have been saying is any indication.”

“Perhaps I would agree,” Hun said, “were it not for his unfortunate habit of attacking the Purple Dragons. He’s grown quite annoying.”

“He’s an adrenaline junkie. He gets it from his ma’s side,” Arnie snorted. “It ain’t because he’s got some misguided crusade. I’ll straighten him out.”

“See that you do,” Hun said, “Securing Karai back into the Shredder’s custody is our priority here. We cannot afford any time controlling your wayward offspring.”

More was said, but Casey had heard. He ambled down the hall towards his room, not daring to run. Closing the door behind him, Casey stood in the swirling dust motes lit afire by the orange light of the dying sun. Looking back, he could see when his father had joined the Dragons. When his stepmother had been her sickest, when the fridge was empty more often than not and money squeezed them tighter than a hangman’s noose, his father had begun staying out late, returning around dawn smelling of alcohol and rusty red. And yet, the next day, there always seemed to be a little extra money. As a child, he hadn’t cared beyond the fact that his father came home at all. But now-

A settled groan from the house snapped him out of his thoughts. Pulling his harness out from under the bed, Casey pulled it back on, wincing when he cinched it tight around his chest. He’d have to pad the strap later. Throwing his knapsack on, he had just dug his mask out when heavy footsteps echoed down the hall. Casey cursed, tried to put the mask back, but ended up dropping it just as his father stepped into the room. 

“Dad. Hey,” Casey said, tracing his father’s figure with his eyes. “Let me look at that,” he said, locking onto a messy scrape surrounded by bruising on his father’s shoulder.

His father’s eyes went to the pack on Casey’s pack. “You’re not seriously thinking of leaving?”

“I have to go,” he said. 

“And go where?” Arnie challenged, latching the door closed behind him, “We’ve talked about the bad things that happen when you go off by yourself.”

“I know, Dad. I’m sorry.” The thought of lying he discarded almost as soon as his mind produced it. Any lie Casey produced would have to be a damn good one to satisfy his father, and he couldn’t think of one with his father’s gaze boring into him. “I need you to trust me, ok?”

“I’m not stupid,” his father snapped, “You didn’t come here to help me, you came here because you wanted something from Splinter’s lair.” He took a step forward. “Just the kind of selfish thing I’d expect from you.”

“Dad, he can help,” Casey said as his father’s words drove home like a puck to the face, “I don't know what the Shredder’s been saying about him but-”

“I don’t care what Splinter’s told you,” Arnie snapped, taking another step forward, “But we need you here, Junior. I need you here.”

“You wh-” Ugly surprise flickered in the back of Casey’s stomach. Of course now would be the time his father needed him. Now, when he couldn’t stay. 

He could still stay, the small marble of guilt in his belly insisted, no one’s making you leave. 

The weight of his knapsack kept him grounded. Inside it rested Karai’s only hope of finding herself again. He owed it to her. He owed it to Splinter. 

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Casey said, feeling the unsteadiness in his own voice, “I can’t.”

Arnie laid a hand on Casey’s shoulder. “What’s he got on you? Whatever he’s saying to make you go along with him, he’s lying. Let us help you, Casey.”

“Splinter’s not like that,” Casey said, thinking of a calm, safe presence and a voice gentle as the morning breeze yet tough as teeth in a feral grin. “He’s good.” 

“Good, huh?” Arnie’s hand lifted off Casey’s shoulder to wipe his forehead. “If you go to him,” he said, “Every Purple Dragon in New York will be on your back. The Shredder himself won’t stop until he finds you.” Casey felt the mirror tap against the knapsack on his back as he father took one last step forward. “I can’t let that happen to you.”

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Casey said, tensing, “but you can’t stop me.”

Arnie’s hands flew forward, forcing Casey against the wall behind him. “I cannot believe you,” he sneered, shoving his face in close, “You selfish, spoiled brat. The world’s come to an end and you’re just going to dance off into the sunset and leave your own father behind, after what happened to your sister-”

“Robyn’s fine,” Casey burst out, “She’s with other survivors.”

His father pulled back. “What? How do you know?” he asked, his face paling. 

“-I just do,” Casey said, trying to stall, “I can’t-”

“You mean Splinter told you,” Arnie spat.”I thought you were smarter than that. You don’t honestly believe a criminal’s word over mine?”

Casey hesitated. In any other case, he would not. But Splinter was different. Even worse, saying so would send his father into a rage. Not that it mattered. His lack of an answer was answer enough. 

Grabbing Casey by the shoulders, Arnie slammed Casey into the wall. “After everything I’ve done for you, after you left us, you don’t get to leave again!”

Casey shrugged off his father’s hands. “Dad, if you would just listen to me for once-”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Arnie roared. His fist snapped across Casey’s face. Casey cursed, but Arnie grabbed his shoulders and pushed him against the wall again. “You’re the one thing I have left, and I’ll be damned if I lose you too!” Arnie said. Letting go of Casey, he took a step back and straightened his shirt as he let out a long, deep breath. “I love you, Junior, but you aren’t going anywhere. This is for your own good.”

“I know,” Casey said, feeling all the things he could say bubbling in his throat- that he could take care of himself, that he knew what the Shredder was better than his father did, that Splinter was the one thing he knew he could trust right now. Maybe later, when he was calmer, Casey could talk some sense into him. But right now, his father was in no shape to listen to anything.

“You don’t really think Splinter’s ‘not like that’, do you?” Arnie asked, pressing on when Casey looked back at him. “Whatever dangerous shit you’re doing for him isn’t worth it. You’re just cannon fodder to him. He’s not like me.” Arnie reached out and cupped Casey’s cheek, still smarting from the blow, and ran his thumb over Casey’s cheekbone. “I get angry because I love you.”

“I know.” 

“And Splinter doesn’t do that, does he?” Arnie asked. 

“No,” Casey admitted, “he doesn’t.”

Arnie pulled his hand away. “You’re too broken and messed up for anyone else to want you,” he said, “I know you haven’t forgotten that. Your mother left because you were too much for her. Nick stopped being friends with you because you were a selfish bastard. I’m not like them. I put up with you even when you’re being stupid because I love you.”

“I know,” Casey said, choking out the words. “Love you too.”

Arnie smiled at him, then turned away. “I have business to take care of. Stay here.”

Casey tasted blood as his teeth ground together, as a lock snicked in the door and heavy footsteps strode down the hall. He turned on the roiling ball of anger in his chest, on the shaky helplessness still quivering in his shoulders, and crushed it deep down into the pit of his stomach. 

What was it Raph said all the time? Like a river over stone. 

Dad or no Dad, he was long overdue at Splinter’s and he’d rather let his father give him a real beating than let Splinter see even the smallest shard of his weakness. He examined himself in the mirror, working around the new crack splitting it in two. Passable. He didn’t have to worry about bruising, either. Joneses were tough as hell. Last time he’d bruised, it was because of a four story fall. His father’s usual tantrums were laughable after that. 

Once he was himself again, he dug his mask back out from under the bed and pulled it over his face. “Sorry Dad,” he muttered as he went to the window, “but not really.”

And that was when he saw the nails pounded into the sill. He pulled on the frame, spitting a vicious curse when he it didn’t slide even a centimeter. 

Rage spiked behind his teeth as his brain summoned the pounding that had woken him up last night- his father standing by the window, holding a told of some kind-

Only the threat of his father hearing and coming after him restrained him from shattering the glass with his blender-encased hand. Fuming, he pulled a crowbar free from the knapsack. He had to get this over with before his father returned. 

Although large and unwieldy, it got the job done. Casey was very experienced with eliminating nails and locks keeping him in- or out of- places he wanted to go. No room could contain Casey Jones. 

He didn’t keep track of how long it took to free the sill, but it wasn’t more than a couple minutes. Casey climbed out, and closed it with care behind him. A pang of guilt echoed in his chest, but he reminded himself that this wasn’t a betrayal, or an abandonment. He was protecting his father, he was keeping him safe by helping to end this invasion as soon as he could. As soon as the invasion was over, everything would go back to normal. 

The problem, he realized as he ran along the rooftops in the dark, as the laundromat faded from view but not from his mind, was that he wasn’t sure if he wanted things to go back to normal.


	12. Chapter 12

Yet again, she shifted her position. Crossed legs, clasped hands, back straight as the flight of an arrow- her body knew how to rest while reaching into the the void of the spirit world. It was simply no longer capable of doing so. She no longer had legs to cross, nor fingers to interlace, and her back was no more capable of staying straight than it was of thinking for itself. Muscle memory of a body she no longer owned buzzed under her skin, urging her to split her tail back into legs, to shred her second mouths into fingers. 

Emptiness gnawed at her abdomen. Unbidden, she remembered- her insides hollow, her limbs shaking from exhaustion as she performed a kata, again and again until she felt her body would burn away. It wasn’t enough for him. Exhaustion, pain, agony- they were but excuses. The merest muscle strand out of place was enough to unravel the entire technique. Shinobi only needed an opening as thick as the edge of a knife to destroy their opponent. Hunger and thirst were as inconsequential as a light breeze in combat. Combat did not, would not, stop because one was tired. 

The fight to reclaim her body was no different. She knew how to make her body move, how to twist her hands into signs and sweep her legs into graceful kicks. The issue was forcing her body to execute the command. 

She shut her eyelids, and let everything crush down on her- pushing away her exhaustion, her hunger- pushing away everything but the faded, blurry vision of her human form. 

When she was human again, and not a moment before, she could rest. 

**

After the chaos of the Dragon lair, the spartan grey of the pad felt homey and comforting. Splinter sat facing the door, meditating. A pot bubbled behind him, filling the room with the smell of cooking meat.

“Casey,” Splinter said, standing. “You are late."

“Sorry, old man,” he said as he opened his pack, “Had a bit of a fight with the Kraang, but nothin’ too bad. It was a clear shot back- aw, shit."

Casey pulled the picture of Splinter and his family free from his pack. It had broken. He’d sandwiched it between the two folders from Donnie’s lab, so the picture itself was intact, but the frame was cracked. It must have happened when his dad pushed him against the wall.

Splinter stilled. One hand reached out. Casey handed the picture over. 

“Thank you, Casey,” Splinter said, taking it over to his nest of blankets. Splinter propped the photo against the wall, his gaze trained on it.

Unsure how to process this reaction, Casey kept digging through the bag. He pulled out the spare robe and placed it by Splinter’s side of the room, along with the folders on Karai and the retromutagen.

“How is your father?” Splinter asked, and Casey looked over his shoulder at the old man. 

"Fine,” Casey said at last, trying to think of any other topic to talk about, "He’s doing fine." 

“But you’ve been injured,” Splinter said, keeping his gaze on Casey. 

“Just a burn,” Casey said, “I don’t even notice it half the time.”

“You’ve at least gotten it looked at?” Splinter asked, getting to his feet.

“Seriously, it’s fine,” Casey said, stepping back, “It’s not even a second degree burn.”

Splinter stroked his beard. “Why don’t you tell me how the mission went,” he said at last, “from the start.” 

He gave Splinter the abridged version. He told him about finding the Purple Dragon lair, the bargain he made, the foray into the sewers and the fight with the Kraang. He said little about his father, and avoided any mention of their confrontations. He’d come back with the supplies for Karai. It was time to move forward. 

Splinter was still watching him. Casey tried to organize his thoughts. “…Shredder is looking for you and Karai," he said. "It's their top concern right now."

One of Splinter’s ear tips flicked. “Shredder must have guessed I survived when he could not find my body,” he commented. “Are you certain you weren't recognized?”

“I think Hun did,” Casey admitted, “but Dad covered for me, although he said he couldn’t protect me if I left.”

Splinter’s hands folded together. “Your father is in a perilous situation,” Splinter said, “Perhaps it would be possible to bring him-“ 

“No,” Casey said, “he’s fine. I mean- Hun doesn’t have a reason to think my dad would lie. Dad’s safe as long as we avoid Purple Dragon territory.”

“Are you certain?” Splinter asked, his eyes staying on Casey. 

“Yes,” Casey said, “If we stay away from him, Dad will be safe."

And so will you, he thought.

"And your injury?" Splinter asked.

"Seriously, I'm fine," Casey said. "It's just a burn."

“You should let me look at it," Splinter said. “It may be a small injury, but it is still worth the time.”

“No, it’s really not," Casey said, irritation coloring his voice. 

“If that’s what you want,” Splinter said after a pause, inclining his head towards Casey. 

“It is” he said, turning to the bubbling pot of soup. The taste of blood blossomed across his tongue as he stirred the contents of the can. "Don't know about you," Casey said to break the silence, "but I'm starving."

Conversation remained stalled for the rest of the meal. A pensive look hung on Splinter’s face as he stared into the fire, aged hands curled around the warmed can of soup. How did they always end up here? Casey wondered, whether it be with his father or with Splinter. 

The fire had burned down to coals, and the chill of winter was leaking into the concrete walls when at last Splinter spoke. “When you’re ready, we can try again to locate your sister.” 

“Are you sure you’re up for it?” he asked, hearing the eagerness in his own voice, but unable to ignore the heaviness that still wrapped around Splinter’s movements. 

“I am certain,” Splinter returned as he lit one of the candles Casey had retrieved. Casting some incense into the dying coals, Splinter knelt in front of Casey and extended his hands. “When you’re ready.”

They resumed the position they’d taken only two nights ago- only an eternity ago, Casey thought as he closed his eyes. Splinter’s thin hands slid around Casey’s as the sharp smell of incense filled the air. Casey closed his hands around Splinter’s as tension drained from his shoulders.

“Remember,” Splinter said, “Think of her. The connection should be stronger this time.”

But Casey could not stay focused. His father’s words still pressed on the back of his mind, tainting his memories of her.

Struggling through fractions together as their Dad shouted and raged at the television, her chubby hands putting a bag of ice together for the fresh welts on his back, hearing a low keening from her bedroom and he and his father screamed at each other.

Splinter's thumbs traced the back of his hands, and he realized he was crushing Splinter's fingers. With effort, he relaxed and tried to force the dark memories away. Splinter couldn't see them, could he?

"Do not fight the fear, Casey," Splinter said, his warm hands gently tightening their grasp around Casey’s cold fingers, "She is in the midst of it."

Laughter, shrill and sweet as she hung on his arm. He followed that thread, chased it down the fuzzy rabbit hole of memory toward colorful lights and swirling rides.

“Casey?”

His eyes jolted open. The warehouse had vanished. He stood in a black void, stars and galaxies and things he didn’t have names for swirling over their heads. The sensation of the ground beneath his feet had evaporated She stood before him, translucent and beautiful as the night sky. 

“Robyn!” 

They came together, his arms partially phasing through her, but he didn’t care. She shone in his arms. Her warmth pierced his chest. She was real.

He kissed her hair, and felt something dripping down his face. “Are you ok?” he asked, “Are you safe?”

“I'm ok, Casey. The people here are weird, but the aliens stay away from them. Ms. Cormaci says that since we’re far enough underground that they don’t know we’re here."

Casey wiped his eyes as he took her in. She was wearing a robe woven from soft grey cloth, and braided sandals that looked like they were made out of moss. “Ok,” he said, “you stay down there until I come find you, alright? I promise I’ll get you as soon as it’s safe up here," he said.

“Is Dad ok?” she asked. “Is he with you?”

"He's fine," Casey said, "How'd you get separated?"

Robyn flickered. "Dad left me with Mrs. Cormaci after we crashed," she said. The stars and galaxies around them began to fade. "I’m glad he’s ok."

“Robyn, I love you!” he shouted, reaching for her, sensing the audience was ending. "I'll find you!"

Her reply faded away as the warehouse rebuilt itself around him. Casey shook his head as he tried to fight off the weightlessness clinging to his limbs. The first sensation to return was the crushing strength of Splinter’s gnarled hands clasped around his own. Splinter’s eyes were closed, and his breath choked and rattled in his chest. 

“Hey, old man,” Casey said, pulling his hands free and shaking Splinter’s shoulder, “Are you ok?” 

Splinter’s eyes cracked open. “Yes,” he said, his voice strained. “I am fine, it simply took more out of me than I expected.”

“…You didn’t have to do that,” Casey said.

“I know,” Splinter said, returning Casey’s gaze, “But I could. For both of your sakes, you needed a chance to talk. Being with other survivors does not mean she is safe.”

“No,” Casey agreed, “It doesn’t. Thank you.” He rubbed his eyes, obliterating the salt trails that had built up around his eyes. “You get some rest,” he said, “I’ll take first watch.” 

“Wake me at midnight,” Splinter said, putting out the candles and organizing his materials near his cot.

“…Seriously, Splinter,” Casey said. He paused, ironing out the wrinkles in his voice. “Thank you.”

In answer, Splinter gave him a tired smile. “You’re welcome, my son.”

As the old man’s breathing slowed to a steady rhythm, Casey remembered his father’s words from earlier. Splinter still put up with him, because Casey hadn't let him see the ugliest parts inside of him- the broken ones, the angry ones. They'd surfaced a few times, but Splinter hadn't yet realized how much of Casey was broken and angry. But even when dealing with his outbursts, Splinter had shown Casey nothing but kindness at every turn. He'd sacrificed a significant amount of energy to let Casey speak to his sister. If there were any good people left in this world, Casey thought, Splinter was one of them. And he didn’t deserve the crap the universe insisted on chucking at him and his family. 

Then Casey stripped to his bare skin to check his wounds. With the old man asleep, he felt comfortable airing his scars to get a better look at the spreading wound across his chest. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a burn. The numbness and the spiderlike tendrils spread from the place on his chest where the bol If it got worse, he would tell Splinter.

Casey didn’t look at his face. Joneses had thick skin. The last time he had visible bruises, he had been a child. While he no longer remember what caused his father's anger- doubtless Casey's smart mouth- the missing teeth and plastered hand had been easy to explain away because of his street hockey games. 

After pulling on his shirt again, Casey moved on to gear maintenance to distract him from the phantom pains lacing up his hand. His skates were covered in gunk from the sewers, and his remaining stick had new cracks.

As he cleaned his skates, Robyn’s words returned to him. She had to be wrong. There’s no way their father would have left her unless he had to. Maybe he thought she'd be safer with Ms. Cormaci instead of the gang. They were a rough bunch.

But why would he tell Casey she was dead? That made no sense, unless Dad had lied. But Dad had no reason to lie. Maybe they had gotten separated. It made more sense, but it didn’t explain why he would tell Casey she was dead. 

Dad loved him, and Casey had never doubted it. But he also knew parents had to love their children, no matter how stupid or awful or broken they were. It was why Splinter still loved Karai. It was why his father still put up with him- a delinquent with no future.

And yet, how many times had Robyn cried herself to sleep because of their father’s fits? How many times had she tried to patch up Casey’s wounds and fretted over his injuries after another fight with Dad, how many times had she told Casey she wished they lived somewhere else? That his Dad had fallen sick instead of her mom? Robyn always went to Casey’s room when she had a nightmare, it was Casey to whom she first showed her artwork or asked for help with her homework. Some small part of his father hated Casey because she loved him more.

None of those things were ideal, but it’s how families were: messy and complicated. Casey wasn’t good for her- but Dad wasn’t good for her, either. And he didn’t deserve to be anywhere near her if he was going to leave her when she needed him most.

Maybe he wasn’t being fair to Dad, but they were one strike of bad luck from the streets even before the invasion. And after it- if his dad was on the Shredder’s payroll and knew Casey hung out with Shredder’s worst enemy-

Something had to change. .

Casey looked back at Splinter as he slept by the low-burning fire. Splinter would know what to do, a voice whispered in the back of the head, but he bashed it down. He couldn’t do anything about Robyn until the Kraang were kicked off their planet.

The easiest thing to do would be to leave his sister with his father. Remove himself from the equation and things would get better at home. Robyn would be ok without him. She was young. She had many friends.

And yet. As long as his dad had ties to the Shredder, home wasn't safe for her. If Shredder ever found out who Casey was- who his father was- Casey had no doubt Shredder would murder both of them to make a point.

Like it or not, for her own sake, he had to get her out of there. Casey set his gear aside. Taking the half-dismantled radios he’d retrieved from Donnie’s lab, Casey brought them to his makeshift workbench.

Once they got Karai back, he decided as he reassembled the radios, he would ask Splinter for advice. The old man would have some idea of what to do. He cast one last look at the sleeping ninja master. A knot of feelings writhed in the pit of his stomach.

Karai had no idea how lucky she was.


End file.
